Community
by Eric Jablow
Summary: In the aftermath of Graduation Day, the town of Sunnydale mourns its losses.
1. Graduation Night

Setting: The end of GD2  
  
Rating: Hard R dwindling to PG.  
  
Synopsis: The Gang tries to recover from the strains of  
fighting the mayor and blowing up the school. Buffy tries  
to heal with the aid of her mother and of Giles, Willow and  
Oz try the traditional method of putting bad memories to  
rest, and Xander and Cordelia decide to escape the  
Hellmouth and their parents. Meanwhile, a town adjusts to  
its losses.  
  
Spoilers: Through season 3.  
  
Note: One of my favorite fanfic series is the Epilogues  
series by Gail Christison. I'd include a link to her web  
site, but it keeps changing. I was originally going to make  
this story compatible with "No Sad Songs...",  
her GD2 epilogue. I decided against that, and I hope this  
story isn't too close.  
  
Relationships: W/O, C/X, Jo/G/B friendship. I made some  
very debatable assumptions about Cordelia.  
  
Status: I tried very hard to keep this canonical. Nothing  
is contradicted by S4-5 episodes. Perhaps the people of  
Sunnydale wouldn't react just this way, but they might  
have. No spear-carriers were harmed in the writing of this  
story. In fact, there's hardly anything supernatural or  
violent in it at all.  
  
Disclaimer: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and its  
characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Kuzui Films,  
Fox Television, the Warner Brothers network, and Sandollar  
Entertainment. No infringement is intended.  
  
Copyright 2001 by Eric Jablow. All Rights Reserved.  
However, feel free to archive, print, or mail this provided  
it be kept intact.  
  
---  
  
Saturday Night  
  
"Don't they know how bad we are?"  
  
The Slayer and her Slayerettes walked down the street; none  
gave the rubble that had been Sunnydale High School a  
backwards glance.  
  
"That's the problem with vamps, Willow. They never  
learn," said Xander.  
  
"And there are just so many of them. They keep coming  
back," said Buffy. She then sighed.  
  
"Hey, we won," said Cordelia. "Do you have to  
worry about tomorrow? I mean, we just blew up Superdemon,  
and made vampire flambe out of his friends. Do you  
really think any vamps will be coming back for a  
rematch?"  
  
"I guess you're right." Buffy sagged a bit.  
  
Oz waved at Willow; she crossed over to him and he murmured  
into her ear, "She's a little drained. Let's get her  
home." They shuffled their positions; Willow moved to  
Buffy's left and wrapped her arm around Buffy's waist,  
while Xander did the same at Buffy's right. Oz and Cordelia  
joined them.  
  
"Wonder of wonders; I'm not even jealous,"  
thought Cordy.  
  
By common consent, they walked in silence to Buffy's house.  
Police cars and ambulances occasionally passed them, shuttling  
the wounded and bitten to the hospital. Once, Buffy sobbed.  
  
"Don't blame yourself. He'd have killed everyone. There are a  
few hundred of us who got to walk home from school today because  
of you. Mrs. Rosenberg is too young to sit shiva. Really."  
  
"Thanks, Xander. But, I should have done better. And it never  
ends," said Buffy.  
  
"We'll be here to help. Hey! The whole school knows. It's war,  
not just a guerilla action now. It's got to get better," said  
Willow.  
  
"Of course, you can't expect help from everyone. I mean, Kyle was  
half a vamp already, right Xander?" replied Cordy.  
  
Xander said, "Thanks, Cordy. Remind me of wanting to eat--"  
Xander stopped just in time not to finish the sentence with  
"Willow"; the resulting double entendre could have led to a  
werewolf bite or worse.  
  
"I object to this topic too," said Oz. Willow whispered to him,  
"Why? I wouldn't mind." Oz stumbled for a moment, and then  
hurried to catch up.  
  
"I heard that," thought Buffy. "I'm glad. Enjoy yourselves."  
Buffy looked at her friend and smiled. Willow smiled back.  
  
They continued walking to Buffy's house, each lost in thought.  
  
"We're here," said Willow. "Do you need anything? Do you want us  
to stay?"  
  
"Nah. I'm just going to fix a sandwich, take a bath, and go to  
bed. Wake me on Labor Day. Besides, Mom probably left ten  
messages for me already; I have to explain--"  
  
Buffy's voice drifted into silence. Willow hugged her and kissed  
her cheek, and then Xander did the same. Oz stood there quietly,  
visibly moved, while Cordelia gave Buffy's shoulder a  
squeeze. Buffy unlocked the front door, turned to them, and said,  
"Thanks, guys. I couldn't have survived this without you." She  
turned again, entered her house, and closed the door.  
  
Cordy turned and kicked at a pebble; it bounced off a streetlight  
and disappeared into the night. "Damn," she said.  
  
"Cor?"  
  
"OK, Xander. I don't worship her, but she deserves better than  
this. Damn."  
  
"Should we stay with her?" asked Willow.  
  
"Will, I think we'd just distract her."  
  
"Oz, but she needs to be distracted."  
  
"She needs to deal, and sooner rather than later."  
  
"Yeah, Cordy, Will; she'll be okay. She's been to hell,  
remember?"  
  
"Right. Duh. What now? The Bronze?" said Cordy.  
  
"I really don't feel like partying," said  
Xander.  
  
"We really need to check in with our parents," said  
Willow. Willow and Oz had turned to each other in an exhausted  
embrace.  
  
"Shall we walk you home?" said Cordelia.  
  
"No thanks. We'll be fine," said Willow. "And you?"  
  
"We'll survive," said Xander. "After all, we did so far. Who'd  
have thunk it. Go. Deal with Mom."  
  
Willow crossed to Xander, hugged him, and then patted Cordelia on  
the shoulder. "Good people." Willow and Oz left.  
  
Xander and Cordelia walked over to the local playground and sat  
on neighboring swings.  
  
"What are you going to do now?" asked Xander.  
  
"I don't know. There's nothing for me here. No house. No  
home. No family. No college. Precious little money." Cordy looked  
grim. "No real talents, unless sarcasm counts."  
  
"You have talents. You're brave, and you've turned into a good  
friend. Despite the sarcasm."  
  
"It doesn't show, does it?" They laughed. "Really. Thanks for  
not giving me away. It's not as though I haven't embarrassed you  
enough."  
  
"I really hurt you before. It's not as though I didn't deserve  
it. Besides, if we can't forgive each other, we'll fall  
apart. And we have enemies!"  
  
"Yeah. What about you?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm not a college kind of guy. I want to see the  
part of the world that isn't Sunnydale this summer. I want to be  
able to walk outside at night without worrying whether the next  
guy I see has a reflection or not. But I don't have much to come  
back to either; Dad's a drunk, Mom's a lump, and I'm a Zeppo. If  
it weren't for the gang, I'd have nothing."  
  
"I'm sorry: I should never had said that. It's not true. And look  
at me; I don't have a place here. I guess I'll go to LA, and try  
to get an acting job. I mean, I do have a pretty face, as long as  
worms don't get into my hair.  
  
"Look, I really need to get away for a few days. Do you want to  
take a road trip? I still have Uncle's car."  
  
"Not much money, though, for either of us."  
  
"Ah well, that's what sleeping bags and tents are for. We'll camp  
out."  
  
"And, when did you think of inviting me?"  
  
"Just now. But, there's no one I'd rather go with."  
  
"How romantic. Are you sure? We might kill each other still."  
  
"After tonight? You killing me is the least of my worries. Demon  
snakes, yes. You, no."  
  
---  
  
"Let's get our stuff."  
  
"Where first?" asked Oz.  
  
"Your van, then your place, then mine. We can call my Mom from  
yours." Willow yawned. "I'm so tired; I want to go home, have  
some cocoa, and go to bed. But."  
  
"But what?"  
  
"When I wake up, I want you there by my side."  
  
Oz hugged Willow as they walked. "Won't your Mom freak?"  
  
"Hey--she tried to burn me at the stake. She deserves to get  
freaked out, don't you think?"  
  
"My parents wouldn't freak--you'd be more comfortable."  
  
"I want my room, my bath, and my bed."  
  
"Marking your territory?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Gladness."  
  
"Goodness."  
  
"And I won't bite."  
  
"But?"  
  
"Certainly. Love ya."  
  
---  
  
"Beep-beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep-beep." Buffy hit the play  
button on the answering machine.  
  
10am: "Hi! It's Mom. You're out early today. Well, I'm in San  
Francisco; I'm going to do all the touristy stuff, ride the cable  
cars, dine on Fisherman's Wharf, shop, I don't know what  
else. You have my cell phone number; call when you can."  
  
4pm: "Hi! It's Mom. I guess you've been busy. Congratulations; I  
wish you'd have let me be there. I'll call you in a couple of  
hours."  
  
7pm: "Not home yet? Please call, please."  
  
9pm: "My God! CNN says that your high school blew up! Eight  
students and two teachers dead, twenty wounded, and the principal  
and mayor missing. I'm on my way back. Dear God, I hope you're  
safe!"  
  
Buffy dove for the phone and hit Mom's speed dial button.  
Thoughts of Mom taking a turn too fast and slamming into a  
roadside ditch entered her mind. "Ring!" "Pick up, Mom!" "Ring!"  
"Please be there, Mom!" "Rin--Joyce Summers!" "Mom!" "Buffy!"  
Buffy heard a clattering noise and the squeal of breaks for a  
moment, and then Mom's voice came back.  
  
"Buffy, are you all right?"  
  
"Yes. No. It's been a horrible day."  
  
"Buff, the explosion, was that a gas leak the way the news said."  
  
"No, Mom."  
  
"Slayer stuff? I should have known. I should have been there for  
you."  
  
"No! Had you been there, we'd both be dead. I couldn't take care  
of you and do what I needed to do."  
  
"And, what did you need to do, young lady?"  
  
Buffy started to cry. "Later, Mom, please?"  
  
"I'm sorry. Did your friends?"  
  
"We're all fine. They were great. They are great. Brave. Needed  
them all."  
  
"Oh. And?" Joyce stopped short, but Buffy knew what she had been  
about to ask.  
  
"Gone. Okay. Left town. He kept his promise."  
  
"I'm so sorry."  
  
"Yeah, well, I guess it was doomed from the start. The doomed  
and the damned."  
  
"Don't say that! You are neither doomed nor damned. And I love  
you. Your friends love you. You'll survive this, the way you  
always have."  
  
"This is different, though. Most problems I solve with Mister  
Pointy. I can't stick a stake in my own heart."  
  
"Oh. Buff, you're safe. That's all that matters. I'll be home in  
a few hours. We'll talk in the morning."  
  
"Thanks, Mom. Love ya."  
  
"Love ya too." Joyce hung up.  
  
Buffy went to the kitchen and made a peanut butter sandwich,  
returned to the den, and turned on the TV to watch the local news  
channel. "I'm glad they got this one wrong," she thought. She sat  
on the couch, curled up into a ball. No one stopped by; no one  
called. After the announcers repeated the story for the fourth  
time, she turned off the TV. Alone with her thoughts, she started  
to cry again. Finally, with a sob, she grabbed her handbag and  
ran out.  
  
---  
  
"Hi, Mom, Dad."  
  
"Oz. Willow, how nice to see you again. So, what was all that  
about?"  
  
"Oz, do they know?" asked Willow in a low voice.  
  
"Tell them. They're grownups. They'll deal," replied  
Oz. "Besides, they know about me."  
  
"And us?" said Willow.  
  
"Tell them," said Oz.  
  
"Well, the Mayor decided to go all evil and eat the graduating  
class, so we had to stop him. We did," said Willow.  
  
"By blowing up the school?" said Oz's Mom.  
  
"Well, we didn't have much choice, unless we liked dying."  
  
"Well, you're okay." said Oz's Dad. "Dinner?"  
  
Willow and Oz looked at each other. "We're starving."  
  
"Oz, I need to call home," said Willow.  
  
"Go. We'll be in the kitchen," said Oz.  
  
Willow went into the den and called her home; the conversation  
with her mother was as banal as ever. "Man, how clueless." She  
joined the other three in the kitchen and interrupted a group  
hug. Oz was crying like a baby; he could hold everything in just  
so much. She turned Oz around and tried to kiss his tears away,  
while he sobbed out, "Too much. Too many people." Finally, she  
hugged him and kissed his mouth; she was crying too by now. Oz  
wasn't ashamed, and she wasn't ashamed either.  
  
Oz's parents watched the two with mixed pride and  
exasperation. "They aren't even trying to hide it," murmured Oz's  
Mom. "Should they?" Oz and Willow heard the conversation and  
broke their kiss. "We won't hide." "Never."  
  
They made some sandwiches and sat at the kitchen table to devour  
them. Oz's parents drew from them most of what had happened that  
day, though Oz and Willow did not discuss Angel or Faith. After  
an hour, Willow told them that they had to get to her house, and  
Oz went to his bedroom to pack a bag.  
  
"He's going with you," said Oz's Mom.  
  
"Certainly. We need this."  
  
Oz returned with a gym bag and his guitar.  
  
"Oz, this isn't just a fling, right?" said Oz's Dad.  
  
"No. More."  
  
"And, you have everything you need? You'll be safe?"  
  
"As safe as anyone is in Sunnydale," said Willow.  
  
"No, he means--" interrupted Oz.  
  
"Oh. We know what we're doing. We've thought about it for  
months."  
  
"Oh." Oz's parents walked them to Oz's van, and they drove off.  
  
---  
  
Xander and Cordelia walked back to Xander's house. They didn't  
say much; both wanted to wait until they could escape Sunnydale  
to say anything serious.  
  
"I have my things in the basement. Do you want to wait here?"  
  
"No, I'll come with you."  
  
Xander led her to the side door and down into the dark  
room. There was a battered couch with a light blanket and a  
stained pillow.  
  
"How often do you sleep down here, Xander?"  
  
"Well, Dad's food of choice is Miller, so, I'd say, three times a  
week."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Me too. Ah, here they are. My duffel bag, some groceries, my  
electric lantern, my tent, my sleeping bag, and--do you have a  
sleeping bag at home?"  
  
"No. I'm not the camping type."  
  
"Well, here's a spare. It was Jesse's."  
  
"Hurts much? At least we could bury Kevin."  
  
"He was my best friend for so long. Well, he and--"  
  
"Willow. You don't have to be afraid of saying her name around  
me. Let's go; there's nothing for us here."  
  
They carried the bags out and put them into Xander's trunk.  
  
"Hey, Xander; you did well in shop class, I see. Almost no dent  
left. Great work."  
  
"Thanks. So, let's say goodbye. I know I'm going to hate this."  
  
"You're probably right. Let's go in."  
  
They walked in; they were right. Mr. Harris sat on the couch,  
many empty cans of beer by his side. "So, you finally show  
up. You didn't want me at your graduation; you're ashamed of me,  
aren't you."  
  
"I'm not even going to try."  
  
"Oh, and it's the rich bitch. Well, you'll never be good enough  
for the likes of her, Al-boy." He pointed at her: "You stuck-up  
cu--Ow!" Xander grabbed Mr. Harris' outstretched arm and swung  
him around into a perfect arm lock. He then forced his father  
onto the couch.  
  
"You do not insult my friends. Do you hear me?"  
  
"Ow. Bastard."  
  
"I wish I were, you lousy sot. Do you hear me? Cordy and I are  
going away for a few days. We will be back, but if you treat her  
like crap again, I won't be staying long. Do you hear me?"  
  
"Ow. I'm sick."  
  
"You aren't listening. You keep hurting my friends, and I won't  
come back. Let's go, Cordy."  
  
"You freaking idiot. You don't deserve him. And, do the Betty  
Ford thing, or else." Cordy poked Mr. Harris in the side, and  
then Mr. Harris groaned. "I'm going to be sick."  
  
Xander and Cordy left, while Mr. Harris stumbled to the bathroom.  
  
"I'm sorry you had to see that."  
  
"Yeah. My mom is like that: pills, not booze. Where's your mom  
anyway?"  
  
"My aunt's, probably. Dad can deal with her; I won't. Let's go  
to your place."  
  
They drove to the richer area of town and stopped at a nearly  
empty house with a "For Sale" sign in front. The two went to the  
front door and went in. Cordy walked upstairs to her mother's  
room and knocked.  
  
"Cordy, is that you?" Cordy's mom had a quiet reedy voice.  
  
"Yes mom, it's me. I'm going away for a few days."  
  
"You're abandoning me? But, who will take care of me?"  
  
"You'll get by; you always do."  
  
"Kiss?" Cordy moved to her mother's bed and let her mother kiss  
her, then she walked out and closed the door behind her.  
  
"How is she?" asked Xander.  
  
"She's zonked out on so many pills that it's a wonder she's still  
breathing. Wait down here; I'll pack."  
  
"Don't take too long. I'm getting the creeps."  
  
"Worse than the mayor?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Back soon."  
  
Five minutes later she walked downstairs with a large suitcase  
and a garment bag.  
  
"What's in there?"  
  
"A surprise. Let's go." They put her things in the trunk and  
drove off. On a whim, Xander drove first to the high school;  
there were fire trucks and police cars there still, along with  
some news trucks and the occasional gawker. Once someone noticed  
Xander and called out "Hey, it's Sergeant Slaughter!" Xander and  
Cordy grinned. "Hey, G.I. Joe's pretty good."  
  
"You know, some of the worst times in my life happened in there,  
and some of the best," said Xander.  
  
"Really. Let's not talk about the worst. But what were the best?"  
  
"Well, most of them involved the broom closet or the boiler  
room."  
  
"I bet you say that to all the girls."  
  
"Nah. No one else would look at me, Cordy. Until you."  
  
"Not just me."  
  
"Cordy, I'm sorry. I'd wish it never happened with her, but  
that's no good."  
  
"Willow. Say her name."  
  
"Willow. We were too scared; we knew it was wrong. She had Oz,  
and I had you. But part of me didn't believe I had you; I was  
still the loser you insulted every day. All the time, I never  
really believed we could be together. I'm not exactly the most  
confident guy, you know. And, for a while she wanted me. She  
looked at me as though I were her hero, her savior. Willow, my  
oldest, most loyal friend. Of course, I wanted her. I'm ashamed  
of what I did to you, but somehow, I'll never stop loving her, or  
Jesse, or the Buff. I can't forget them. Am I wrong? They're  
more than family. God knows mine's no good."  
  
"I guess not. You know, all the while I was insulting you, I  
envied you. You had real friends. I had Harmony and Aura. What  
you did was important, while I was the fashion queen."  
  
"You did important things, though, when you gave yourself the  
chance. And that's the thing; when we worked with Buffy and Giles  
in the library, we had a purpose. We were a team."  
  
"I'll order some Sunnydale Slayers T-shirts." Cordelia's eyes  
softened. "Xander Harris, number one-eighth. So, do you want to  
be a team again?"  
  
Xander pulled the car to the curb, cut the engine, and said,  
"Always." They shifted in their seats and bent their heads to  
each other. They kissed gently, and then Xander restarted the  
car. They circled the block and then headed out of town.  
  
"Well, one good thing happened."  
  
"Really, Xander? Something good happened today?"  
  
"Well, we got to satisfy every high school student's fondest  
fantasy."  
  
"And that is, dork?"  
  
"We got to blow up our school, and in a good cause."  
  
"You're right. It does sound cool that way."  
  
They drove out of town toward the highway leading north.  
  
"Hey, we need some music." Cordy punched up the radio: "This is  
KSDL, Sunnydale's Classic Rock station, and by request, we have  
an oldie but goodie, one of everyone's favorites. Here's The Boss  
and the E-Street Band with Born To Run!" Xander laughed and  
turned the volume to the max; by the time Bruce got to "It's a  
death trap, it's a suicide rap, we got to get out while we're  
young. 'Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run!", the two  
were singing along at the top of their voices. The two sped into  
the night.  
  
---  
  
Rupert Giles walked up the path to his apartment. He had gone to  
the hospital to check upon Wesley and the wounded students, but  
the staff was too busy to give him any information. Finally, the  
emergency room nurse told him, "You're not hurt this time, and  
we're too busy to chat. Go home!"  
  
He let himself in the front door and turned on the light, and  
then he heard a soft voice say, "Giles?"  
  
"Buffy." He turned to the voice and saw Buffy curled up in a ball  
on his couch, hugging her knees. "I'm here."  
  
Buffy looked lost for a moment, and then she turned toward Giles  
and stared at him.  
  
"Buffy, what's wrong? Can I help?"  
  
"I can't stop thinking, Giles. Talk to me. Distract me, please."  
  
"Wouldn't you do better dancing at the Bronze?"  
  
"Do you think I'm that callous, Giles? We lost too many people  
today. 'Buffy Summers, Class Protector,' Ha!"  
  
"It isn't your fault, Buffy."  
  
"They trusted me, and they died for it. And I can't even be sorry  
I put them in harm's way because I knew it was necessary."  
  
"Oh, Buffy. Please don't blame yourself."  
  
"But, so many of them died. I called for their help, and they  
died giving it to me."  
  
"Do you know why they trusted you?" Buffy was silent. "Because  
you always gave fully of yourself. You are worthy of their  
trust. And despite our conflicts, you are worthy of mine. I trust  
you more than I do myself."  
  
"They could have ran. They could have stayed away."  
  
"They chose not to. It's their town, their school. They have a  
right to fight for what they hold dear."  
  
"I sat at home watching the news over and over, and I kept  
thinking that I could have found an better way."  
  
"Buffy, we wracked our brains trying to figure another plan. We  
couldn't. I still don't see any other way that would have  
worked."  
  
"Who's going to get killed next because of me? How many  
strangers? How many friends? Willow? Xander? Oz? Cordy? Mom?  
You?" Her eyes widened with that last question.  
  
"No one is going to get killed because of you. We will stand by  
you, and we shall prevail."  
  
"But they died. We didn't really prevail, Giles. We lost too  
much."  
  
"We lost very much, but you weren't the cause of that. Don't you  
know that they fought for you because they love and respect you?  
The way Willow does, and Xander and Oz, and even Cordelia. And  
I."  
  
"Oh, Giles." She started crying, and he enfolded her in his  
arms. They sat like that until she calmed and fell asleep, and he  
carried her to his bed.  
  
---  
  
"Hi, Mom." Mrs. Rosenberg was ironing some clothes.  
  
"Willow. Oz. You're late."  
  
"We had dinner at Oz's. So, what's happening here?"  
  
"Oh, I typed up about 15 more pages of my new paper. How was the  
ceremony, Willow?"  
  
"A blast," said Oz. Willow rolled her eyes at him, and Oz  
shrugged back. "Cocoa?" "Fine." Willow set some milk to boil and  
stirred it while Oz sat sat by the kitchen table and strummed his  
guitar.  
  
"Comfortable, Oz?" Willow said softly.  
  
"No. Little freaked."  
  
"She won't even notice. She never does. Well, almost never."  
  
Mrs. Rosenberg watched them for a moment, and then picked up her  
folded clothes and walked upstairs.  
  
"Is she always like this?"  
  
"Yeah. It's pretty convenient, what with following Buff, cracking  
computer systems, being in the Demon-of-the-Month club, and  
hanging out with my favorite band all filling up my midnights,  
but she still gives me the creeps. If she cared, she'd complain."  
  
"Hey, I think you turned out pretty well."  
  
"Thanks." Willow added some cocoa and sugar to the milk, added a  
couple of drops of vanilla extract, and stirred for another  
minute. She then poured it into a pair of mugs, placed them on a  
tray, and led him to her room.  
  
---  
  
"Summers' residence. Please leave a message."  
  
"Mrs. Summers, this is Mr. Giles. Buffy is here at my apartment;  
she couldn't sleep, and so she came here to talk. Please come by  
however early you get in."  
  
---  
  
Outside the 7-11, Cordelia handed Xander the bag of supplies she  
had bought. Xander looked inside.  
  
"Chocolate, good. Six-pack of Coke, better." Xander looked at  
her other purchase--ribbed. "Best," he said, while smiling  
widely.  
  
"Just staking a claim."  
  
"Works for me."  
  
---  
  
"Oooh," moaned Willow. "Great idea, Xander," she thought. "Oz!"  
Willow stopped thinking for a while.  
  
---  
  
Giles had let Buffy use his bed while he took the floor; now  
cries and shouts awakened him. He saw Buffy thrashing from side  
to side, punching at the air, gasping out words.  
"Faith. Stop. Blood. Angel. Knife. Kill."  
  
Giles moved next to Buffy, whispered her name and tried to still  
her hands, trying to interrupt her nightmare. Buffy became even  
more frantic, jerking her head and kicking out with her legs, and  
then she got a hand free and punched Giles in the jaw. Giles fell  
back onto the floor; somewhat shaken, he got up. Meanwhile,  
Buffy's cries subsided.  
  
Giles pulled himself onto the bed again; now he saw Buffy move  
her head to one side and offer her neck to an unseen Angel. She  
gasped out, "Drink!" Giles watched helplessly while a look of  
terror appeared on Buffy's face. Finally, the nightmare ended,  
and Buffy began to breathe normally again.  
  
Giles slipped off the bed and returned to his quilt and pillow;  
tears poured down his face, and he cursed Mayor Wilkins for  
attempting to purchase immortality at so terrible a cost.  
  
---  
  
"Breathe. She's safe. Breathe. Don't crash the car."  
  
---  
  
Cordelia yawned. "How much further?"  
  
"About two minutes. I remember this place from Cub Scouts. You  
okay?"  
  
"Yeah. It's peaceful. I am a little cold, though. Warm me?"  
  
"Love to." Xander pointed out a sign for a county park and  
campground. "We'll have to sneak in; I didn't have time to get a  
permit, but I think local kids sneak in a lot."  
  
"Try to find someplace private."  
  
"Of course. Ah, this should do. Park here, hop the fence, we're  
in."  
  
"You'd think we did this all the time."  
  
"We do. It's the least criminal thing we've done all day."  
  
"Ugh. I'm glad high school didn't have metal detectors."  
  
"Giles would have been screwed then."  
  
"Yeah. Let's go."  
  
They got their things from the trunk, sneaked over the fence, and  
walked to a deserted clearing. Xander set up the tent, while  
Cordy unrolled the sleeping bags.  
  
"Do these zip together? I've heard of that."  
  
"Don't know. That was Jesse's. We weren't that close."  
  
"Ha. They do. Cool! Hey, you're good at that."  
  
"I feel like a Cub Scout, you know. I always do around you."  
  
"Better not. This wouldn't be any fun."  
  
Xander pulled out an air mattress from his duffel bag and  
proceeded to blow it up, while Cordelia put their bags inside the  
tent.  
  
"Don't wear yourself out."  
  
"That's your job, right?" Puff. Puff.  
  
"And, don't you forget it." Cordy grabbed a pair of Cokes and  
opened one.  
  
"What?" Puff. Puff.  
  
"I like looking at you. Speedos, tux, jeans, whatever."  
  
"Well, remember when you didn't want to look at me?" Puff. Puff.  
  
"Would you just shut up."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Kiss me."  
  
"That I can do." Xander capped the valve on the air mattress and  
crossed to her. They kissed. "Let's go inside."  
  
They put the mattress inside, set the sleeping bags on the  
mattress, climbed in, and closed the tent flap. Then, they kicked  
off their shoes and slipped inside the sleeping bag. They  
finished their sodas as their bodies slowly warmed the sleeping  
bag.  
  
"I never thought m--our first time would be in a tent."  
  
"Yours."  
  
"You don't sound surprised."  
  
"Nah. I said only that you dressed like a nympho, not that you  
were one."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Besides, I knew the guys you dated weren't really important to  
you. But you were important to you."  
  
"Unlike you. That explains Faith."  
  
"Not a good thing. And the worst part of it was that Angel had to  
save me from her. Do you know how humiliating that is?"  
  
"Hey, I'm here with you."  
  
"That's the true Cordelia."  
  
---  
  
"I can do this. Josie8291 told me she likes doing this to her  
boyfriend," thought Willow. "If Mom only knew what we discussed  
in those chat rooms...."  
  
"You don't have to," interrupted Oz.  
  
"I want to." Willow made her "resolved face," and Oz stopped  
talking. Soon he was making only incoherent noises and gasps.  
  
---  
  
Buffy started to dream again, but her motions were weaker; she  
was exhausted. Giles felt helpless. "Chosen--for this? Bloody  
hell."  
  
---  
  
"Stay awake. Coffee. Oh, Buffy. What in hell happened? Hell."  
  
---  
  
"Warm yet?"  
  
"Warm me."  
  
Xander embraced Cordy; they kissed each other fiercely, trying to  
forget their hatred of the last year, trying to put the ghosts of  
the Factory to rest.  
  
They kissed, trying to forget the terrors of the last few days,  
of the mayor transforming into a ravenous beast, of his inhuman  
henchmen charging them and trying to feed them to a hungry demon,  
and of the days they spent in the shadow of doom.  
  
They kissed, trying to forget the social snobbery that kept them  
apart, trying to forget their friends whose ideas of status and  
proper behavior would have kept them from kissing, and trying to  
forget that they once believed their friends.  
  
They kissed, trying to remember how their hatred boiled into  
lust, how danger drove them together, and how they wrested  
something golden from pain and suffering.  
  
They kissed, realizing that though they could not rely upon their  
families, they could rely upon each other.  
  
They kissed, for the joy of kissing.  
  
Their hands wandered, and they slowly slipped off their  
clothes. It was not elegant, but it was human.  
  
They caressed each other; no school bells would interrupt them,  
no parents' curfews would call them home, and nothing  
supernatural would disturb them.  
  
They stroked, nibbled, and licked at each other. They might not  
be able to see each other, but they didn't need to. They saw  
each other in the soft light of memory. So, they had been  
scarred, by each other, by the town they had survived, by their  
parents. There, in that tent, it mattered very little. They had  
each other.  
  
They made love. All thoughts faded for them but those of lust,  
pride, and friendship. And, when it ended for them, they held  
each other and promised that their joys would be repeated soon.  
  
They shifted positions and soon they slumbered, awaiting the  
dawn.  
  
---  
  
"Thinking much?" asked Willow.  
  
"Can't. Looking."  
  
"Good."  
  
---  
  
"Buffy, I'm home." "Beep." Joyce Summers ran to Buffy's bedroom,  
only to find it empty; she then raced down to the answering  
machine: "Mrs. Summers, this is Mr. Giles. Buffy is here...."  
She ran back to her car.  
  
---  
  
Buffy's nightmares had come and gone; now, Giles sat by her side  
and held her hand. "How many more battles must she fight?" His  
eyes closed.  
  
A few minutes later, Giles was awakened by the doorbell. Buffy  
did not stir, and Giles rose from the bed to get the door.  
  
"Mr. Giles."  
  
Giles shushed Mrs. Summers and let her in. "She's resting,  
finally. I don't think we should disturb her."  
  
"I want to see her."  
  
Giles nodded, and they quietly walked upstairs. Joyce walked to  
the bed and stood over her sleeping daughter. She quietly sobbed  
as she gazed at Buffy's limp and battered form. Then, she  
recognized the marks on Buffy's neck, and she balled her hands  
into fists and confronted Giles.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Giles looked forlorn: "Come downstairs and I will explain. We  
should not disturb her."  
  
Joyce looked mutinous, but she brushed by Giles and walked down  
the stairs into the kitchen.  
  
"All right. What happened?"  
  
"Tea?"  
  
"Truth."  
  
"In short, this. Mayor Wilkins had enacted a ritual that caused  
him to transform into a demon at the commencement ceremony. He  
was vulnerable for only a few minutes after the transformation,  
and we lured him into a booby-trapped room."  
  
"That does not concern me. What about Buffy?"  
  
"Faith had gone to work for the mayor. 'Gone over to the dark  
side of the Force,' as the kids called it. To distract your  
daughter, she shot Angel with a poisoned arrow. The only cure was  
the blood of a Slayer, and your daughter fought Faith so it could  
be hers. It was a vicious fight; in the end, Buffy stabbed Faith,  
and Faith threw herself off the roof of her building to deny  
herself to Buffy."  
  
"And? Oh, God." Joyce started to cry.  
  
"I'm afraid so. Buffy cured Angel, and then Angel got her to the  
hospital just in time."  
  
"But, he didn't transform her, did he? She'll be all right?"  
  
"It doesn't work that way, Mrs. Summers. Angel didn't kill Buffy  
or make her drink from him; she will recover. You will see many  
sunsets together still. Remember, you have no lasting effects  
from Darla."  
  
"Oh, God. And I wasn't there. I should have refused to leave  
her."  
  
"No, Mrs. Summers. Had you been there, Buffy would have died. You  
would have died. You would have distracted her."  
  
"But, I--I can't just stand there and watch her go through hell!  
What can I do?" She rose and ran upstairs.  
  
"Exactly what I do: watch," thought Giles. "Damn." He followed  
Mrs. Summers.  
  
Buffy had started dreaming again; her head lolled from side to  
side, and she softly punched at the air. Mrs. Summers looked on  
in horror and then threw herself onto the bed next to her  
daughter, caught her up in a hug, and sobbed her name.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"Mom?" Finally, the dam broke; tears streamed down their faces as  
Joyce rocked her daughter like a baby. Giles looked on in  
confusion, and then Buffy turned toward him and gestured. He  
joined them sitting on the bed.  
  
Buffy touched the bruise on Giles' jaw. "Did I do that?"  
  
"I'm afraid so, Buffy. Even asleep, you stil slay me." Giles  
turned to Mrs. Summers and explained: "She was having a  
nightmare."  
  
"Sorry," said Buffy.  
  
Giles knew he shouldn't be there; he felt no embarrassment being  
around Joyce, but he could not interfere with the Summers  
family. "Mrs. Summers."  
  
"Joyce."  
  
"Joyce. I know you're tired; would you like to stay here and get  
some rest? I'll use the couch. And, when we wake up, I'll make  
all of us brunch."  
  
"Thank you. That would be fine."  
  
"Giles, wait." Buffy reached out toward him, and he grasped her  
proffered hand. They didn't say a word; they just looked intently  
at each other. Suddenly, a feeling of peace entered her heart,  
and she fell back onto the bed with a sleepy smile. He bent to  
her and kissed her forehead, and then he walked out.  
  
Joyce stretched out on the bed next to Buffy, and they  
immediately fell into dreamless sleeps. 


	2. The Morning After

Sunday Morning  
  
Light shone through the edges of the tent flap, and Xander woke  
up and poked his head out. Cordelia stirred next to him.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Dawn."  
  
"Oh." Cordelia crawled next to him and looked out too. "Did you  
ever have nightmares about not being able to see this anymore?"  
  
"Getting vamped? All the time. You? You okay?"  
  
"Nah. My nightmares are about getting eaten or just getting  
killed. But, that's nice to look at."  
  
He kissed her. "So are you."  
  
"Well, I feel grimy, and--ick--morning breath. I need a bath, and  
so do you, X-boy."  
  
"As long as I get to shampoo your hair."  
  
"Ooh, I wasn't expecting that. You just want to look at my  
breasts, right?"  
  
"Not just that. I love your hair."  
  
"You're a romantic fool. I love you for that."  
  
Xander smiled and kissed her again.  
  
"Look, let's stay here for another hour, get dressed, get  
breakfast, drive a little more, and get a motel room. We can  
afford one night, can't we? Besides, I have my surprise."  
  
"I guess so, but I can't take you anywhere expensive."  
  
"You don't have to. That's not why we're here."  
  
---  
  
"Hacker girl strikes again."  
  
"W-what?" Oz stirred from Willow's bed and stood behind Willow at  
her computer.  
  
"Oh, our hospital has Sunnydale-level computer security. Not  
much."  
  
"Good, but why are you? Faith."  
  
"Right. I want to know what's going on. If the police  
investigate--here's her EEG."  
  
"Looks fuzzy."  
  
"OK. New browser window--get an electronic textbook  
up. There. Diffuse brain damage. Probably won't wake up. I don't  
know whether to be happy or sad."  
  
"What a waste. At least she won't be bothering Buffy or you  
again. The wages of sin."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Will, I was thinking. Keep tabs on her, won't you?"  
  
"Okay. Why?"  
  
"She's a Slayer still. She has some special healing powers."  
  
"You think she'll come back? Faithy Krueger the evil Slayer?"  
  
"Don't know. But it worries me. But also--"  
  
"Out with it, Oz. Come on."  
  
"Some other time, Will. Just keep tabs on her; we need to know  
where she ends up." Oz thought, "Because she's Buffy's retirement  
plan. When she dies--no, that's Evil." "Come back to bed."  
  
"Okay. Let me just raid the police department and make sure they  
aren't going after Buff."  
  
---  
  
"Tasted like cafeteria food."  
  
"No rat poison, though."  
  
"Oh, right. Could be worse."  
  
"Look, I want to call Willow." Cordelia looked a little  
shocked. "No, I just don't want anyone to think we're running  
away."  
  
"Like Buffy did."  
  
"Right." Xander called Willow's number from a pay phone,  
grumbling about the cost.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Willow, hi!"  
  
"Xander. What's up?"  
  
"I just wanted to let you know that I--we are taking a little  
road trip. Didn't want you to think we were bailing on you."  
  
"'We?' You and Cordelia?"  
  
"Yes, me and Cordelia." "Hi!"  
  
"Good. You deserve it."  
  
Xander heard a snoring noise from the phone line.  
  
"Willow, is there a wolf in your bed?"  
  
"That there is. We've been, er, busy."  
  
"Have fun, kiddo. We'll be back in a few days."  
  
---  
  
Joyce and Buffy awakened around 10:30, took short showers, and  
went downstairs. Giles had breakfast prepared already, and they  
sat down to eat.  
  
"I was thinking: after an event like that, the Hellmouth should  
be quiet for a few weeks. It would be reasonable for you to leave  
town for a bit; anyway, I don't want you to patrol until you're  
fully healed. In fact--"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I feel as though I need to leave this town for a while too, and  
I would be honoured if I could persuade the two of you to  
accompany me on a vacation."  
  
"Giles, I'd be delighted. Mom?"  
  
"Well, I wanted to see more of San Francisco, and I'd even be  
able to enjoy it this time. Let's. I'd want to be back to work  
Monday."  
  
"Well, it doesn't matter when I get back, but a Sunday return  
should be fine. We should wait until tomorrow--I wouldn't trust  
my driving today. Would ten be acceptable? Besides, Buffy  
probably wants to see her friends. Buffy, you're going to the  
Bronze tonight, right?"  
  
"I guess. Thanks."  
  
"Ten is fine."  
  
They finished their breakfast, and Giles walked them to the  
door. Buffy hugged Giles and stepped out.  
  
"No Ripper stuff, okay?"  
  
"None." Giles kissed Joyce's cheek and Joyce walked out.  
  
"Mom?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Not embarrassed, are you?"  
  
"Well, a little."  
  
"I still have a chocolate bar from--"  
  
Joyce Summers walked into a tree.  
  
---  
  
"Beach, Cordy?" They passed a roadside sign.  
  
"Yawn. Beach. Good idea. After all, we don't have anywhere  
specific to go."  
  
"Just any place not-Sunnydale."  
  
They drove to the beach entrance, changed in the smelly  
bathrooms, and walked out. Cordelia whistled at Xander in his  
Speedo, while Xander sighed at seeing Cordy's yellow one-piece  
outfit. He turned away in embarrassment.  
  
Cordelia came up behind him and hugged him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Cordy."  
  
"Don't blame yourself. Too much, that is."  
  
Xander sagged a little, and then Cordelia pinched his rear.  
  
"Aah. Two can play at that."  
  
"Sure. You don't have the guts."  
  
They walked down the beach and set up a blanket; each applied  
lotion to the other, and they relaxed hand-in-hand. The beach  
filled up as the morning went on, and soon they were  
surrounded. Xander looked at the couple on their left.  
  
"Cordy, I think we went to the wrong beach."  
  
"Huh."  
  
Xander motioned to the couple next to them. Xander may have been  
wearing a skimpy bathing suit, but the couple next to them wore  
nothing.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Shall we go, Cordy?"  
  
Cordy sat up and hugged her knees. Xander glanced at the couple.  
  
"Nah. I'm not worried. Don't stare, though."  
  
Xander turned over onto his stomach and cradled his head in his  
hands. Cordelia kept glancing at the couple. The man and the  
woman both looked to be in their mid-twenties, average in looks,  
and both were about ten pounds overweight. They looked  
comfortable in their own skins, though. They were quite relaxed.  
  
After a few minutes, the woman turned and saw Cordelia.  
"Nervous?"  
  
"Yeah," Cordy admitted.  
  
"Don't be. This is a clothing-optional beach. Nobody will say  
boo."  
  
"Thanks." Xander just stared at the sand. Meanwhile, Cordy  
noticed a very large scar on the woman's abdomen. The woman saw  
Cordy's stare: "Cancer surgery. It's okay; I'm fine now."  
  
"Good."  
  
A few minutes later, Cordelia came to a decision: "Xander, except  
at me."  
  
"W-what?"  
  
"Don't stare, except at me." Cordelia undid the straps of her  
bathing suit and pulled them off.  
  
Xander turned over and saw her naked back. "Cor?" He would have  
said something snippier, but he then saw the ugly scar on  
Cordelia's back. He knew that it took a bit of courage for  
Cordelia to expose herself that way, and the words died in his  
throat. He leaned over and kissed the mark on Cordelia's back.  
"Lotion?"  
  
"Yes, thanks."  
  
A few minutes later, Cordy asked, "Hey, what about you?"  
  
"Er, er, you don't mind?"  
  
"Don't be silly."  
  
"All right." Xander doffed his trunks. "I feel weird."  
  
"It's okay. Hey, it's kind of nice. I'm just glad it's not a gay  
nude beach, though."  
  
The woman on the next blanket called out to them: "Oh, that's a  
half-mile south."  
  
Xander fell onto his back and stared at the sky.  
  
"You're really cute when you blush."  
  
"Come here." He kissed her, and then gave her bottom a pinch.  
  
---  
  
"How are you feeling, hon?"  
  
"A little weird, Mom."  
  
"Angel."  
  
"Angel. I mean, I save his life--he almost kills me, and I lose  
him. I know, I know. I still feel angry. Save the world--get a  
big whoosh."  
  
"At least he left because he loves you. He knew he couldn't stay  
with you. What could you have together? No marriage." "Certainly  
no sex. Thank God for that," Joyce added in her thoughts.  
  
"So, I'm not logical. I can't deal logically."  
  
"Besides, he still loves you. Not like your Dad and me."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mom."  
  
---  
  
"Whoo. Had your fill yet?"  
  
"Temporarily, Willow. You want to come over to my place tonight?"  
  
"Yeah. You were right at Christmas, you know. I don't feel  
guilty."  
  
"Well, we didn't have to wait this long."  
  
Willow threw a pillow at Oz. "Your choice, Oz. Let's have  
brunch."  
  
"Let's. I could eat a sheep."  
  
---  
  
"Wheee! This is great, Xander."  
  
Xander swam to Cordelia. "Yeah. I wasn't sure about this, but I  
like seeing you happy."  
  
"Besides, you like staring at the other women."  
  
"I do not stare."  
  
"OK, you peek."  
  
"Well, okay. I peek. Don't think I didn't see you checking out  
the guys."  
  
"Yeah, right. I'm not interested in any of them."  
  
"I can't wait for you to prove it."  
  
Cordelia stood up and stared at Xander; Xander stared at her  
breasts. A Frisbee hit Xander in the back of the head.  
  
"You see, Xander?"  
  
"That I do."  
  
Cordelia pointed over Xander's shoulder. "Throw the Frisbee back  
to the man over there, willya?"  
  
"Throw. Right." He did. Xander caressed Cordelia under the  
water. "Let's get out of here."  
  
"Let's." They hurried back to their blanket, packed up, and left.  
  
---  
  
"I wonder how the rest of your friends are doing, dear."  
  
"I'm sure they're fine, Mom." "Besides," Buffy thought, "If I  
interrupt Willow today, she might stake me with a pencil." "I'm  
sure I'll see them tonight. I'm going to do the Cordy  
thing--bubble bath, the works."  
  
"Fine, dear. Don't fall asleep in the tub."  
  
"Not likely." Buffy went upstairs.  
  
"Oh, no. Buffy, me, and Giles together, for a week? Perhaps I  
should cancel. No, Buffy wouldn't understand. Or she would. I'm a  
fool."  
  
---  
  
"Why did I offer that? I may have been drugged when we were  
together, but I still genuinely like her. Like? Any more than  
that? I guess I'll find out. I feel ill."  
  
---  
  
"Practice, Oz?"  
  
"Yeah. And if Devon makes any comments about you, I'm going to  
hit him in the head with this guitar."  
  
"Is that a promise? Use your electric guitar instead. It's more  
solid. See you at the Bronze afterwards. I wonder how Buffy is  
doing."  
  
"Call her."  
  
"Yeah. Love you."  
  
"Love you. Thanks." They kissed, and he drove off.  
  
---  
  
"Well, we can only afford one night here, and one more camping  
out, if you want."  
  
"I want."  
  
Xander moved to the bed and bounced on it a bit.  
  
Cordy laughed: "You goof. Not yet; why don't you shower. You're  
all sweaty. Looks good, but...."  
  
"Right, Cordy."  
  
Xander took a hurried shower, dried off, and barged out of the  
bathroom, only to be nearly knocked flat by Cordelia and her  
garment bag. "Back soon." Xander went back to the bed and bounced  
a bit, and then he lay back and started to doze.  
  
---  
  
"Buffy! Will's on the phone."  
  
"One minute!" Buffy pulled herself out of the tub, took a moment  
to pat some of the water from her body, put on her robe, and went  
to her room to pick up the phone.  
  
"Will. Hi!"  
  
"Interrupting much?"  
  
"Nah. Just trying to soak the aches out. You know any masseuses?"  
  
"Sorry, Buff. Oz is--pretty good. But I'm not lending him to  
you."  
  
"I could tell. When?"  
  
"Just before you called about Faith poisoning Angel. I don't  
want to say that your timing sucked, but Faith's certainly did."  
  
Buffy giggled. "Out with it, girlfriend. How was it?"  
  
"'It'? 'It' is the third person singular subjective pronoun. 'It'  
implies uniqueness. One and only one time. That does not apply  
here."  
  
"Thank you, Giles."  
  
Willow hesitated. "Oh, that was insensitive of me: I mean, you  
and An--oh, just hang up if I get you angry, please?"  
  
"Willow, no! He's gone, but I can't let you and the rest not have  
a life just because of my problems." Buffy paused. "Besides, you  
hung on every word of my romantic descriptions; I'd might as well  
do the same for you."  
  
"Oh. Well...." Buffy knew that Willow's fantasy life was much  
more interesting than her daily life was. When they first met,  
Willow seemed afraid of her own shadow. Just a few conversations  
at the Bronze while Xander wasn't around had let Buffy know that  
Willow had desires, and had great knowledge, but did not have the  
confidence to develop a romance. When it finally worked out for  
Willow, Buffy had imagined that she'd set off fire sprinklers  
wherever she went.  
  
"Well, the first time--" Willow drifted off for a moment. "We  
couldn't find any way to stop Wilkins, and I was beginning to get  
that caffeiney-nervous feeling. I looked at Oz, all cool and  
collected, and I felt like I was going to snap. Then he kissed  
me, and suddenly we knew. Knew exactly what we were going to do,  
knew it was right, knew it was time, no hesitations. Our own  
private graduation, since our diplomas weren't going to be worth  
the paper they were printed upon."  
  
"Hey! Giles found mine."  
  
"You know, when he touches me, I just melt. And when I touch him,  
and I see that little shake he gives, I could almost cry. And  
that night? I mean, I knew he'd done it before, but not for a  
long time, and not with anyone he really cared about. A teenaged  
boy thing, back when any of us were normal teenagers. But to see  
him, all shields lowered, all barriers down, and to know I was  
making him that way, I was awed."  
  
"I didn't know you were such a poet, Will."  
  
"I didn't either. But--it wasn't what it should have been. I  
mean, we didn't know if we were going to be alive 24 hours  
later. And Oz, well, he was too gentle. I could have stood for it  
to be a little more abandoned. I know, condoms, and love  
bites--not the thing. But he acted as though I were made of  
glass. I'm not!"  
  
"It's a mistake anyone can make, Will."  
  
"And the second time, in the van."  
  
"What?"  
  
"In the van, just before graduation."  
  
"Will! That's why you were nearly late?"  
  
"Uh-huh. Well, we were both a little panicky. Well, I was. Oz  
never quite panicked. But, we were too fast, and we really didn't  
concentrate on each other. It was more a 'last chance before we  
die' thing. But last night--Whee!"  
  
Buffy was right.  
  
"...And then, Xander had given me that great idea. I had better  
not thank him, wouldn't you say? I mean, when Oz kissed me down  
there, I thought I'd break in two. I mean, fireworks! Cliche, I  
know, but--wow! And, he didn't stop; the third time around I was  
howling the way he did last full moon. Gee, I'm glad my Mom is so  
clueless."  
  
"You did it when your Mom might notice? Uh, Willow, I'd be scared  
out of my mind."  
  
"Well, you're brave about vamps, but you're not brave about  
everything, you know. I mean, perhaps you'll learn some lessons  
from me sometime."  
  
"So, details, details. I mean, Angel and I went from foreplay,  
to, well, it. Nothing in between. Then, he went away for a  
while. Then, just kissing, but no further--or else! I'm happy for  
you two. Hey, it's normal. Comforting."  
  
"Buff, Oz and I are hardly normal."  
  
"You're the most normal people I know."  
  
"That really scares me, Buff."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Well, then I returned the favor. You know, it felt peculiar at  
first, but I really got into it. Jo--you don't know her, but  
she's one of my chatroom buddies--told me she likes doing that to  
her boyfriend; she likes making him squirm, and she has this  
feeling of power. Not like you going staking, but I felt it  
too. And, I liked the Ozzy taste."  
  
"Whew. Willow, perhaps I should take a cold shower now."  
  
"Shower. Umm."  
  
"Willow."  
  
"Well, he smelled like me--I had to do something. It would have  
worked out better if we didn't have to break in the middle so he  
could get--dressed. And then, the hot water ran out. I think  
I've turned into a slut."  
  
"No, you're just enjoying Oz. Good for you. But, I wouldn't  
babble to everyone I met about this. Especially Xander."  
  
"Well, you did ask. And, I'm not going to hide what Oz and I feel  
for each other."  
  
"No reason you should. But, some people might get angry."  
  
"Screw 'em. There, I said it. Screw 'em. Mom can burn at the  
stake for all I care."  
  
"Willow, have you been drinking coffee?"  
  
"Buffy, I know better than that. So, going to meet Oz and me at  
the Bronze tonight?"  
  
"Hey, if they're open, I'm there. I'm under orders not to patrol  
for a while; Giles put me on the DL for a couple of  
weeks. Besides, the vamps are probably taking long vacations  
right now."  
  
"If he says so. Last year--sorry--it took about three weeks for  
activity to pick up. This year, I'd guess five."  
  
"So, it'll be me, you, Oz--how's Xander?"  
  
"Oh, he called this morning. He and Cordelia are on a road  
trip. He'll be back in a few days--they didn't want us to worry."  
  
"Xander and Cordelia, back together. I thought she and  
Wesley--nah, that couldn't work. Xander and Cordelia--still can't  
figure that one out."  
  
"Me neither. But, I can't say boo about it. I mean, that's the  
weirdest relationship in Sunnydale history."  
  
"Even?"  
  
"Even."  
  
"Oh, let's talk a weirder one; Giles invited Mom and me on a  
vacation trip too. We'll be leaving tomorrow."  
  
"Peculiar. What if Ripper shows up?"  
  
"Then, I knock him out, put him in the trunk, and drive us  
home. And, no one particularly wants me to drive."  
  
"I know. I've seen you."  
  
"So, Ripper will have to stay away. Look, I'm going to get  
dressed, veg out with Mom for a bit. See you at 8."  
  
"When will you be back?"  
  
"Sunday evening. I'll keep in touch."  
  
"Bye, Buff. See you later."  
  
---  
  
"Hey, you aren't supposed to fall asleep until after we do it."  
  
"What? Sorry, Cordy."  
  
Cordelia opened the bathroom door and strolled out.  
  
"You look--wonderful." Cordy did; she was wearing her prom dress  
again.  
  
"Just for you. Come on--hold me." They embraced and swayed for a  
bit. "I mean, you bought this for me; I'd like you to have the  
chance to take it off."  
  
---  
  
"Two hotel rooms. Definitely two."  
  
---  
  
"Buffy, do you want to watch a video?"  
  
"Fine, Mom. Nothing romantic, though."  
  
"OK. Casablanca's out. What about Dracula?"  
  
"You are a sicko. You didn't steal my chocolate bar, did you?"  
  
"Who's the sick one today?"  
  
"What about 'Roger Rabbit'?"  
  
"Mindless. Fine. I'll make the popcorn."  
  
---  
  
"Why Faith?"  
  
"Why Wesley?"  
  
"You first."  
  
"Hell of a romantic moment. She asked. She was a bit hard to say  
no to. And, since I had made myself the outcast of outcasts among  
the rest of you, I didn't have a reason to say no, did I?"  
  
"But you never asked me. Why didn't you ask me?"  
  
"Why? Because I thought that if I had asked, you'd have come to  
your senses about me. You'd have have said, 'Xander, you freak!'  
and tossed me away."  
  
"Well, you should have asked anyway."  
  
"You'd have said 'Yes'?"  
  
"Maybe. I don't know. You're not very self-confident, are you?"  
  
"No, and you know why."  
  
"But, Faith. That's really beyond creepy. And, I could have been  
your first, instead of that whacko."  
  
"It was a bad night for us all. I promise that I didn't learn  
anything. Now, Wesley?"  
  
"Well, he looks good in a suit. A fantasy, I guess. He could  
take me far away from here. Besides, none of you liked him, and  
that turned me on. But--"  
  
"But what?"  
  
"But, he's a lousy kisser. He doesn't put any of himself into  
it. You did, you goof. You don't do anything half-hearted."  
  
"And, how many times did you kiss him?"  
  
"Just once--couple of days ago. And then the thought of doing  
anything more with him just left me cold."  
  
"Thus me. Came to your senses at last."  
  
"Hey--you danced with Anya. I guess you came to your senses too."  
  
"Yeah. Dinner?"  
  
"OK. Shall I show off my dress?" 


	3. Friendship and Pride

Sunday Night  
  
"Hi, Will. Hi, Oz." Buffy kissed Willow's cheek.  
  
"Buffy. Feeling better?" asked Oz.  
  
"Fine, Oz. Slayers heal fast. I think I pulled a muscle though."  
She turned to the bartender. "A mocha blast, please." The three  
turned and listened to the music for a bit. The bartender came  
back with her drink, and Buffy handed him a couple of dollar  
bills.  
  
"Your money's not any good tonight."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
The bartender pointed to the end of the bar. "The boss says that  
without you, we wouldn't have any customers left. You didn't know  
his nephew just graduated from High School here, did you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"So, it's all on the house tonight."  
  
"Oh. Thanks." Buffy turned to Willow. "I'm not used to this."  
  
"Well, you're the hero. Enjoy it tonight. Don't get a stuffed  
head, though."  
  
"I can't. It's always 'So what have you slain lately?'"  
  
"Well, bask in your glory tonight, but just tonight."  
  
At that moment, a boy none of them recognized came up to  
them. "Hello."  
  
"Hello."  
  
"I was wondering--may I have the next dance?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Oh, go ahead, Buff. It's just a dance."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Brad and Buffy enjoyed their turn on the dance floor. They  
couldn't talk much, as Bronze bands stressed volume instead of  
lyrical quality, but they did get a few words in. When the song  
ended, Brad dropped her off with her friends, kissed her on the  
cheek, said goodbye, and went off to another section of the club.  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
"I don't know," said Willow. Oz shrugged. Buffy got a refill of  
her mocha; when she had finished it, another boy came by and  
asked for a dance. Buffy rolled her eyes, Willow giggled, and Oz  
shrugged, and Buffy went off to the dance floor.  
  
This was the pattern for the rest of the evening. At least every  
other song, someone Buffy barely recognized would come to her and  
ask for a dance. Buffy would go with him, they'd dance, and the  
boy would return her to her friends.  
  
Finally, late in the evening, Willow noticed a girl watching  
Buffy and her new dance partner with interest. Willow approached  
the girl; her left arm was in a sling.  
  
"Excuse me."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Have we met before?"  
  
"Oh, you're Willow. Buffy's friend, right?"  
  
"That's right. What's going on?"  
  
"Oh, I'm Joan Doherty. We weren't in many of the same classes."  
  
"You were at graduation."  
  
"Yeah. One of those goons slammed me into a wall. Sprained my  
elbow. Then, Cordelia stabbed him, and he vanished. I got one  
myself later."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Vampires. Hard to believe, isn't it?"  
  
"It was for me at first. I'm sort of used to it now. Though, I  
still wake up screaming sometimes. So, what's going on with  
Buffy?"  
  
"Well, she wasn't exactly the most popular girl on campus--"  
  
"Neither was I," interrupted Willow.  
  
"But, we figured it out. Then, there was dark guy."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Dark guy. You know. Tall, Dark, and Handsome Guy. The one she  
danced with here. Her boyfriend."  
  
"Angel."  
  
"Odd name for a guy. Well, we all saw them dance at the Prom. I  
saw him lead the charge at graduation, and then I saw him walk  
away afterwards. It's over between them, right? Otherwise he'd be  
with her now."  
  
"It is. He left town."  
  
"He's nuts."  
  
"Special circumstances."  
  
"Sunnydale circumstances? No, don't tell me. I don't want to  
know. But, we all saw her face down the Mayor--she's the general,  
right?"  
  
"That's about it. The general, the hero."  
  
"And now, she's alone. Sucks, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yeah. You could say that Buffy's life sucks."  
  
"So, she's been protecting us, and we've been treating her like  
dirt. And you too. What's your job, by the way? You're on her  
team, right?"  
  
"I do research, mostly. And--" Willow felt a little devilish. She  
reached out with her mind, focused on one of the coffee stirrers  
in its container, and levitated it toward her. Joan's eyes  
widened for a moment.  
  
"So, we've been treating her badly, she's saved our lives, and  
now she's alone. So, a bunch of us suggested to the guys we know  
that they try to keep her occupied tonight. She broods, doesn't  
she? Not good. That's my boyfriend with her now."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I'm not jealous--he's not hitting on her. No one's pushing. If  
she wants to talk, they'll talk. But, if she can protect us, we  
can comfort her too."  
  
Willow was left speechless. The song ended, Buffy was returned to  
her friends, the boy kissed her on the cheek, Joan patted Buffy's  
shoulder, and Joan and her boyfriend went off.  
  
"What's going on?" asked Buffy.  
  
"Later."  
  
The evening was coming to a close; groups of teenagers headed for  
the exit. Invariably, they stopped by Buffy, Willow, and Oz,  
shook Buffy's hand or tapped her on the shoulder, and said  
goodbye.  
  
The club was mostly empty when Buffy heard a familiar voice.  
  
"We never had a chance to dance at the Prom; I'd like to rectify  
my mistake."  
  
"Giles, when did you get here?"  
  
"A few minutes ago. Hello, Willow, Oz. Nice to see you tonight."  
Willow and Oz nodded.  
  
"Is anything wrong?"  
  
"No, Buffy. For the first time in months I can say that  
everything and everyone are fine. Shall we?"  
  
"We shall."  
  
They moved onto the dance floor; Buffy slipped her hands into  
Giles' larger ones, and they swayed together to the song.  
  
"After the picture fades, and darkness has turned to gray,"  
boomed a Queens-accented voice from the jukebox.  
  
"Your choice, Giles?"  
  
"I do know some American music, Buffy."  
  
"But you prefer Clapton, right. Not Led Zepplin, I hope."  
  
"No, dear. Too loud. And too stupidly mystical."  
  
"No Bay City Rollers, I hope."  
  
"It wasn't on the jukebox. Besides, I like the sentiment." Giles  
cocked an ear at the music.  
  
"If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me. Time after  
time," continued Cyndi Lauper. "If you fall, I will catch you, I  
will be waiting. Time after time."  
  
Buffy lost herself in Giles' green eyes. "He's always there, no  
matter how I treat him," she thought. "I hurt him so much, and  
still, he's there. We're bound together. More than Mom and Dad,  
at least." Her thoughts drifted off, and she returned to his  
eyes.  
  
Giles looked at Buffy's hair and her expressive face. "They  
wanted me to make her into a machine, an unfeeling brute. My  
damnable and damned teachers. They nearly made me lose her. Never  
again. I look at her, and I feel young."  
  
They closed into a hug. He looked down at her and saw a single  
tear move down her face, and she looked up at him and gave a  
nervous laugh. "Time after time. Time after time."  
  
The song ended, and they held each other tightly. Willow and Oz  
joined them on the dance floor, and the two extended their hug to  
include their friends. They stood there for a moment, Willow  
leaning into Giles' side, Oz gripping Willow's free hand, and  
Buffy curling her arm around Giles' waist, when an electric  
guitar clanged from the sound system. Giles and Buffy fell back  
in astonishment when they heard a voice call out "I remember  
every little thing as if it happened only yesterday." Oz looked  
at the jukebox and shouted out, "Devon!" Devon just grinned, as  
"Paradise by the Dashboard Light" played out to the thinned  
crowd. Still, most of the crowd started singing along, even  
couples that had dated and more for years.  
  
"On that note," said Buffy.  
  
"Let's go home." finished Oz.  
  
"Can you drop her off?" asked Willow.  
  
"Certainly. Get your rest," replied Giles.  
  
The four walked out, and Oz and Willow got into Oz's van. They  
drove off.  
  
Giles and Buffy walked to Giles' Citroen. "They won't," said  
Buffy.  
  
"Won't?"  
  
"Get any rest."  
  
"Oh. They're a good couple," Giles said. "Are you envious?"  
  
"No. It's not my turn, I guess. Really, I'm happy for them. How  
could I not?"  
  
"Do you miss him, Buffy?"  
  
"Not now, Giles. Anything but that."  
  
"Where is Xander, by the way?"  
  
"Out of town. He and Cordelia went away for a few days." Giles  
reached over to her and lightly touched her arm. "It's all right,  
Giles. It's one of the things I fought for."  
  
"I hate to see you be such a martyr. They should be giving you a  
parade. The Queen should be giving you a bloody knighthood."  
  
"Wrong country, Giles."  
  
"I say."  
  
"I have friends who love me. I have Mom. And--" She stopped for  
a moment. "I have you. Always."  
  
"Always."  
  
"But, I'm about to fall down again. Could you get me home?"  
  
"Time after time." He supported her as she got into his car, and  
he drove her home in silence. He half-carried her to her front  
door; Mrs. Summers was waiting. He placed Buffy on their couch,  
and she fell asleep immediately.  
  
"Is she?"  
  
"Just tired. I stopped by the club they go to. Nothing unnatural  
tonight."  
  
"I'd ask you to stay for tea, but I should get her into her own  
bed. I'm never sure what to say to you."  
  
"Good night, Mrs. Summers."  
  
"Sleep well, Rupert."  
  
"Joyce."  
  
---  
  
"Cordy."  
  
"Can't sleep, huh."  
  
"Nah. You?"  
  
"No. It's 2:30. The bags under my eyes will have kids of their  
own, and I still can't sleep. What'll we do? What do we go back  
to?"  
  
"Don't know. And, I'm not up for anything other than talking."  
  
"Which you don't do very well."  
  
"Everyone knows that."  
  
"You do the other thing very well, though."  
  
"Hmm. So, what do we do?"  
  
"I can't stay in Sunnydale. You know that. There's nothing left."  
  
"Not even with me?"  
  
"Not even. No job, no money, no hope. And, our families?" Cordy  
let out a bitter laugh.  
  
"Um. Where's yours going?"  
  
"Dad escaped jail. He's going North. Mom--relatives in Chicago,  
I think. I'm not going with them. But, I'm not staying in  
Sunnydale."  
  
"You're leaving me." Xander's voice was flatter than it had been  
when she was in the hospital. It showed no enthusiasm, no  
heartfelt apologies, no tone, just a flat acknowledegement of an  
ending.  
  
"I can't stay. I'm not wanted here. You, you're bound to it. Even  
without Slay-girl, or SuperBrit, once you knew about the  
Hellmouth, you'd stay to fight. Forever."  
  
"You're not wanted there? I want you with me."  
  
"I can't stay. How would I live? Where would I live? I am not  
going back to that dress shop. And, I've been Queen Bitch for so  
long that no one would cross the street to say hello."  
  
"Buffy. Giles."  
  
"Do you think I'd accept their charity? Not that they have that  
much to give. Not that they'd want to give any to the bitch  
queen."  
  
"Cordy, no. I know your masks. Why do you think I play the clown?  
They know too. They saw what you did when the demons came down."  
  
"I can't stay. You know that. I'm not going to cheat to make my  
way in the world. I'm not going to be my father. I will earn my  
place. Not like those stupid self-esteem lectures at school. I  
will achieve something that I can be proud of." Her voice fell to  
a whisper. "That you can be proud of."  
  
"But, I'm proud of you already." They embraced, and fell asleep  
for a time. 


	4. Remembering the Past

Monday Morning  
  
"Staring again."  
  
"Well, I like." Morning light streamed through Oz's window;  
Willow thought he glowed.  
  
"I'm not going away, you know."  
  
"I know. I still worry."  
  
"Don't." Oz tapped the bed next to him. "Come back. Lie down."  
She did. "What is it, babe?"  
  
"I still don't believe--"  
  
"Willow?"  
  
"I was alone for so long; I didn't think I'd ever be unalone."  
  
"You deserve everything, Will. You show me what I can do. You  
make me brave. I can't hide from you; you tease out my  
secrets. And, you smell nice too."  
  
Willow giggled a bit, but went somber again. "But, I don't  
deserve."  
  
"No, Willow."  
  
"But, I--I betrayed you."  
  
"And I've forgiven you. I don't want to hear any more talk of  
forgiveness here. Just, why can't you forgive yourself?"  
  
"There has to be something evil in me for me to do that."  
  
"No, Willow. Confused, yes. Not evil. But, no more. You are our  
conscience."  
  
"Jiminy Cricket, that's me."  
  
"But, there's a time when you have to stop punishing  
yourself. When's Yom Kippur anyway?"  
  
Willow softly punched herself over her heart and started to  
recite the Vidui, the Yom Kippur short confession.  
  
"But, you do not punish yourself any more. You do what you think  
is right, and I will trust you. Forever. But remember exactly  
what I have inside me."  
  
"Yeah. You have a new cage yet?"  
  
"Aunt and Uncle are working on it. I spoke with them yesterday."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Are there Jewish werewolves?"  
  
"Only if we're not very, very careful."  
  
"Shall we practice being careful?"  
  
"Safe sex really has a different meaning here on the Hellmouth."  
  
"Well, I could wear my mittens. And a mouth guard."  
  
"Don't forget socks."  
  
"And socks."  
  
"Don't you dare."  
  
"Well, this thing at least."  
  
---  
  
Buffy and her mother were in their kitchen, preparing sandwiches  
and pouring drinks into travel jugs. Mrs. Summers' favorite  
vacation song came from the CD player:  
  
Quitting Time,  
Quitting Time,  
Quitting Time,  
Quitting Time.  
  
Money is not the problem,  
You have enough of that....  
  
Quitting Time  
The Roches  
  
"You okay with this, Mom?"  
  
"I feel a little strange. I remember everything we did, but I  
don't recognize myself in those memories."  
  
"Do you have any sympathy for me, and all the stupid things I've  
done?"  
  
"Yes, but I'd still ground you every time."  
  
"Well, I'm moving out in three months. But, seriously, are you  
wigged out by all this? Or by my knowing about it?"  
  
"A little. I mean, your father and I tried to hide our sex lives  
from you, and there was nothing illicit or dishonorable about  
that. It's a little daunting for me to know that you work every  
day with someone I've been intimate with."  
  
"Well, he hides 'Ripper' pretty well. I hope he's ok with it,  
with us."  
  
"He'll be okay."  
  
"I don't know, mom. He keeps a lot inside him; when it comes out,  
I duck. Do you know, he ran the Mayor through with a sword? It  
didn't hurt Wilkins at all, however."  
  
"Oh. And you, how do you feel about all this?"  
  
"Well, I have trouble with the concept of you having sex. Of  
course, I'm not 11; I don't think you only had sex once in your  
life, nineteen years ago."  
  
"Grow up, dear."  
  
"But, you and Giles? I mean, there's no reason you shouldn't, but  
the thought makes me wiggy."  
  
"You sound jealous."  
  
"Mom."  
  
"Really. You sound jealous."  
  
"Don't go there, please."  
  
"OK. You don't bring it up, and I won't."  
  
---  
  
"You OK, Cordy?"  
  
"As well as I can be. Find a love, lose a love."  
  
"You haven't lost me yet."  
  
"Don't. Don't say it. Don't try to stop me. I can't stay in  
Helltown, and you won't leave. So don't try to persuade me."  
  
"Well, we'll still see each other? Please? You can invite me to  
your first movie premiere, or we can meet half-way and dance on a  
Boardwalk New Year's."  
  
"Nice."  
  
"And next summer we can camp out for a week near the beach and  
scare off all the birds."  
  
"With your face?" Cordelia laughed. "That would be nice."  
  
Xander kissed Cordelia under her eyes and ran his fingers through  
her hair.  
  
"You up again?"  
  
"I'm eighteen years old. What do you expect?"  
  
"We're not that different. Come here."  
  
---  
  
"What are you going to do this summer, Will?"  
  
"Well, a little programming, a little witchcraft, a lot of  
relaxation. Hey, we deserve it. Besides, being a part-time  
teacher earned me a bit."  
  
"The band's going on tour this weekend. Sorry."  
  
"I know. I'll survive. You'll be back in time? Do they know?"  
  
"I will. They don't. It's going to cut down on our  
opportunities."  
  
"I can just imagine you going wolfy during a concert."  
  
"Aah. Please don't. Anything but that."  
  
"Well, what about?" She kissed him and whispered something in his  
ear.  
  
"Tonight. I can't now. More practice."  
  
---  
  
Buffy and her mother had lapsed into silence; Buffy sat on their  
couch and glanced at a fashion magazine, while her mother paced  
between the kitchen and the foyer. Finally, at one minute before  
ten, they heard a car wheeze to a stop in their driveway.  
  
"On time, as always."  
  
"I get the impression that he's late only when the world is about  
to come to an end."  
  
"You're so right, Mom."  
  
As Joyce went to open the door, the telephone rang.  
  
"Mr. Giles--Rupert. Come in."  
  
"Thank you--Joyce."  
  
"Still nervous? I'm sorry. Perhaps--"  
  
"Please think nothing of it, Joyce. Otherwise, we will never  
leave."  
  
They turned toward Buffy as she returned the phone to its cradle.  
  
"That was some lady from the Y. They want me to lead a  
self-defense course. I'm getting a little worried, Giles."  
  
"Shall we go?"  
  
"In your car, Giles? Do you hope to arrive before Christmas?"  
  
"I offered, Buffy. It's my responsibility. I shall drive."  
  
They carried their bags to Giles' car, and wedged them into its  
trunk. Giles pulled out a smaller bag, closed the trunk, and  
opened the doors for Joyce and Buffy. Joyce went into the  
front seat.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Kids go in back, Buffy."  
  
"Mom!"  
  
Giles moved behind the wheel, called out "Seatbelts," and started  
the car. With a wheeze and a cough, the Citroen carried them away  
from Sunnydale.  
  
---  
  
"Checkout time, Xander."  
  
"Damn. I could get used to this place."  
  
"Well, it's not the Ritz, but the company's nice. You got  
everything?"  
  
"Yeah. Let's go. Where to?"  
  
"Let's just drive."  
  
They carried their bags to Xander's car, dropped the key off at  
the front desk, and pulled onto the highway.  
  
"Atomic turbines to speed?"  
  
"Check."  
  
"Bat Radio on?"  
  
"Check." Cordelia giggled.  
  
"That's the Boss--Cordy, punch it up."  
  
"Check." They sang along with the radio: "Mister, I ain't a  
boy. No, I'm a man. And I believe in the promised land."  
  
---  
  
"Well, we really sound like the epitome of crap today."  
  
"Devon, shut up."  
  
"Can't do that, Oz. I sing, remember. On the other hand, your  
guitar playing, well, isn't."  
  
"Dev, I don't need to hear this. Let's just start at the top  
again."  
  
"What's wrong, Oz? No sleep again? Feeling worn out? Do we need  
to put a curfew on you?"  
  
"Not another word."  
  
"Showing some emotion, Oz? How odd of you."  
  
Oz grabbed his guitar, held it upside down, walked over to Devon,  
and gently tapped it against Devon's head. "One more dig at  
Willow, and I do my Pete Townshend imitation, Dev. Shut up."  
  
"Oz and Willow actually having sex. My illusions are gone."  
  
"Well, you and Harmony were certainly worth a gag or two."  
  
"Point for Oz," called out the new drummer. "From the  
top. Please!"  
  
---  
  
Willow went home and plucked some flowers from her garden. Then,  
she walked to Sunnydale Medical; the attendant at the front desk  
nodded when he saw her and handed her a visitor's badge.  
  
"Hello, Max. How are things?"  
  
"Busy. Are you okay?"  
  
"Just visiting other students."  
  
"Gas leak. Sure. What really happened?"  
  
"You don't really want to know, do you?"  
  
"Actually, I've seen enough strange cases here the last few years  
that I can pretty much guess. Anyhow, try 2 West. Most of the  
high school cases were sent there."  
  
"Oh. How many are there?"  
  
"I think we have ten cases left; mostly broken bones and  
concussions. Also, there are three in the ICU--I think a couple  
won't make it. Some blood loss cases, too. By the way, could you  
pass the word that we need blood donors? We're running out, and  
our last few shipments have been short for some reason."  
  
"I'll donate before I leave. I should have realized. I'll let  
people know."  
  
Willow went to the ward and chatted with the injured students and  
family members, and left them the flowers she had picked. Wesley  
had been sent home the day before, and Percy was being released  
just as she arrived at his room. Then, she reported to the  
phlebotomy center to donate a pint of her blood.  
  
"This will sting for a moment."  
  
"I've had worse. My friends--much worse."  
  
The technician pricked her finger and transferred a drop of blood  
onto a slide. Then, he placed the slide onto a microscope and  
viewed it.  
  
"Your blood count is normal, Miss Rosenberg. Now, if you just lie  
upon this couch, we'll perform the procedure. Have you ever done  
this before?"  
  
"No, but I know what's going on. Don't worry; just do it."  
  
"Ok. You'll feel a pinch, and maybe a dull ache for a bit."  
  
"Aah. OK."  
  
"Good. Now, make a fist and release it a few times."  
  
"Like this?"  
  
"Fine. Now, just relax. This should take about ten minutes. I'm  
going to set up for the next donor, but I'll be looking in on  
you. Thank you for helping."  
  
The technician got up and left the room, and then Willow heard a  
soft voice from the couch next to her.  
  
"Willow Rosenberg?"  
  
"Yes." Willow turned her head. "Jonathon?" He was half-way  
through his blood donation.  
  
"Uh-huh. Hey, thanks for coming here."  
  
"Well, I have friends still here, and the hospital needs blood."  
  
"I know." Jonathon closed his eyes and shivered.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Larry just died, you know."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I've been a bit distracted."  
  
"Yeah. I could have just gone home and cried, but I'm tired of  
that. I've spent years doing that. So, I decided to do something  
useful instead." He looked miserable.  
  
"It's not wrong to cry. Were you friends?"  
  
"I don't think he had many friends. We talked a few times in the  
last few weeks after he came out and after I nearly--"  
  
"I know. I didn't mean to remind you."  
  
"No, it's OK. I was going to kill myself, and Buffy saved me. But  
the thing I hate most about this--he didn't leave anything behind  
him. Who's going to remember high school stories, especially when  
the school doesn't exist any more?"  
  
"Jon, you remember him."  
  
"He wanted to write, but what could an eighteen-year-old write?  
What would I have left behind if I had killed myself? Not much."  
  
"Well, that's why you have to live and to remember. This isn't a  
town for happy endings."  
  
"They wouldn't even use him as an organ donor. The doctors asked,  
his father told them that Larry was gay, and they stopped  
asking."  
  
"AIDS."  
  
"Yeah, they're scared of that. So, eighteen years of life goes  
completely to waste. He's too young to have actually done  
anything. It's as if he never existed. Do you ever feel that way  
about someone?"  
  
"Yeah. There's going to be a funeral, right? At least you'll have  
a place to remember him by. Now, Jesse--Jesse, Xander, and I were  
best buds as kids--there wasn't anything left of him."  
  
"Uh, how?"  
  
"Well, Sunnydale--"  
  
"What is it with this place anyway? What was happening at  
graduation?"  
  
They fell silent as the technician returned to remove the needle  
from Jonathon and to give him some orange juice.  
  
"I'll be back in five more minutes, Miss Rosenberg."  
  
"Thank you." The technician left.  
  
"So, what is it with Sunnydale?"  
  
"Do you believe in magic and monsters, Jon?"  
  
"I used to believe only in human monsters, Willow. I'm not  
blind."  
  
"If only we just had human monsters here. Sunnydale sits atop a  
Hellmouth, a portal from the Earth to Hell. Vampires are  
attracted to it. Demons try to open it. And sorcerors come to  
gain power from it. And then there's the weird stuff."  
  
"Vampires. I saw them, but--"  
  
"Yeah, I know. And I thought all I had to worry about was being a  
nerd."  
  
"So, vampires? A vampire killed Jesse?"  
  
"Yeah. It turned Jesse into one of them. Xander had to stake  
him. Poof. 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.'"  
  
"Damn. And, Buffy?"  
  
"It's hard to explain. As long as vampires have existed, there  
has been one girl in the world with the special gifts to fight  
them and the other evils of the night. It's really a curse,  
though; it's burning her up inside. She's seen and done so much,  
and she's heartsick. We try to be there for her, but we can't  
really understand. And it will go on until she dies."  
  
The technician returned to unhook Willow from the machine; she  
was sipping her orange juice when Jonathon continued shyly:  
  
"Can I help her or you? Could you tell me some of the things  
you've done? I may not be able to help much, but I could  
listen. You must be a little heartsick too."  
  
"That's--yes. Let's get lunch, and we'll talk. And you can tell  
me about yourself. And Larry." She tried to get up: "Ooh, dizzy  
here." They sat down for a minute and tried again. This time,  
they made it out of the room and the hospital.  
  
---  
  
"Rupert, do you have anything to read?"  
  
"Of course he has something to read, Mom. He's Giles. You  
probably shouldn't read them, though."  
  
"Did you think I'd be bringing any of those books with me, Buffy?  
This is a holiday."  
  
"I'm sorry, Giles."  
  
"Look in the bag at your feet, Joyce."  
  
Joyce opened the bag and let out a gasp.  
  
"Oh, dear. Force of habit, I guess."  
  
"You used your weapons bag, Giles? That's rude."  
  
"I find it fascinating. I notice that the weapons are on top. I  
guess when you need them, you need them fast."  
  
"It's a sad priority, Joyce."  
  
"Stakes. A tiny crossbow. Is that dagger silver?"  
  
"Giles, keeping silver daggers? Should I tell Oz?"  
  
"What he doesn't know won't hurt me, Buffy."  
  
"Holy water? Should I get some too?"  
  
"I'll lend you some, Mom."  
  
"A copper axe?"  
  
"For Earth demons, Joyce."  
  
"How do you fit all this in such a tiny bag?"  
  
"Magic. They call it the TARDIS spell."  
  
"Giles, you're joking, right?"  
  
"God's own truth, Buffy. Would I lie to you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'm truly hurt, Buffy. The bag's also protected against X-ray  
machines and the like."  
  
"An iron chain? A golden flute? A laser pointer--that doesn't  
fit."  
  
"So that's where it was."  
  
"Brass knuckles? Handcuffs? I thought I had those, Ripper."  
  
"Mom!"  
  
"I realized it would be a good idea to get a set."  
  
"That's a very, er, impressive first aid kit. You really ought to  
restock, though."  
  
"Giles, don't tell me you've run out of Tylenol 3 again."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"He's registered for Frequent Flyer miles at the Sunnydale MRI  
Center, Mom."  
  
"Oh. Ah, books. The Hundred Days, by Patrick O'Brian. Have you  
read the entire series?"  
  
"From the very beginning, Joyce. It's probably not the one to  
start with."  
  
"Emma, by Jane Austen?"  
  
"I read it once a year. Buffy probably only saw that modern  
adaptation of it: 'Clueless,' I think."  
  
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, by J. K. Rowling? I  
thought that was a children's book."  
  
"Many adults like it too. It's the British printing, by the way."  
  
"Well, I'll read Emma. Would you like the Potter book, Buffy?"  
  
Buffy sighed. "I might as well; I won't get much conversation  
from you for a while."  
  
"Gee, thanks."  
  
About five minutes later, Joyce started chanting, "Exterminate,  
exterminate." Giles pulled the car to the shoulder and started  
laughing.  
  
"Have you two gone mad?"  
  
---  
  
They sat on a beach in the middle of nowhere plotting the futures  
of their old classmates.  
  
"Aura?" asked Xander.  
  
"Personal shopper, Encino Nieman-Marcus. Marries a coke-addicted  
dentist. Has three kids, never gets the weight off. Kyle?"  
  
"His juvenile record gets sealed; after all, how could anyone  
explain eating a school principal?"  
  
"That's happened twice, you know."  
  
"Right. He becomes a cop in LA, marries a barmaid, beats her,  
takes bribes, and eventually eats his gun. Wes?"  
  
"No! Not fair."  
  
"Sorry. Owen."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"I told you, remember? The guy who thought fighting vampires was  
romantic."  
  
"Oh. Goes to college, tries to write artsy poems that make no  
sense. No one reads them. Switches to writing occult fiction  
under a pen name. No one reads them. Drives a cab. Anya."  
  
"Ouch! Do I deserve that?"  
  
"Yes, but I'll let it slide this time. Jonathon?"  
  
"Ooh. Hard one. Nearly killing yourself will change a man, I  
hope."  
  
"Me too."  
  
"Okay. He wakes up. He goes to college, he goes into advertising,  
and he ends up a VP at Hallmark Cards."  
  
"Ha!"  
  
"You have a better idea?"  
  
"No. Your pick."  
  
They continued their game as the afternoon went on, though they  
never plotted their own futures, or those of the Scooby Gang.  
  
"Well, we'd better find a place to stay, Cor."  
  
"Yeah. I've got plans for you."  
  
"Ravishing my geeky body?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"Having me ravish your sexy body?"  
  
"More like it, X."  
  
---  
  
"It's just that I looked at Larry and I thought I should be lying  
there, not him."  
  
"No, Jon." Willow and Jonathon had walked to the Sunnydale town  
center and had lunch at Bucky's; now they sat on a bench in front  
of the ice cream parlor finishing hot fudge sundaes. "You know it  
was just so random there. Like a lottery."  
  
"Larry fought him, and I just knocked something down and  
ran. Hell, as soon as I could, I just ran. I was just so scared."  
  
"No. You did not deserve to die, and he didn't deserve it  
either. None of us did. We can't all fight, Jon. I couldn't."  
  
"Cordelia did."  
  
"We can't all be warriors; do you think that's all the world  
needs? No one blames you for being scared. I was scared. I have  
spent much of the last three years completely terrified. And, ask  
Buffy sometime. God, her life sucks."  
  
"But."  
  
"No. There's no blame here, except for the Mayor, of course."  
  
"I have to do something; I can't just go on ignoring everything."  
  
"You were going to, you know. Death is rather final. Oops,  
except for here."  
  
"No, that's over."  
  
They finished their bowls, and walked back toward Willow's house.  
  
"I have to do something. Tell me, Willow, do you believe in God  
and Heaven?"  
  
"Strange. I know Hell exists; I'm not certain about Heaven. And,  
God? He seems rather distant this week."  
  
"Well, I was thinking. If we want a Heaven for us, don't we have  
to remember them first?"  
  
"I don't see."  
  
"Is there going to be a memorial service for Larry, for those who  
died? For the school?"  
  
"I don't know of any."  
  
"Could you help me set one up?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'll call the prom committee, or what's left of them. Can you  
try to get a location?"  
  
"Of course. I'll canvass the churches and synagogues."  
  
"When should we have it?"  
  
"Not until next week; Buffy's mom carted her away. She won't be  
back until Sunday."  
  
"Can I use your phone? "  
  
"Of course."  
  
---  
  
Buffy held up the book and laughed. "Did you go to a school like  
that, Giles?"  
  
"I'm afraid not, Buffy. As far as I know, Hogwarts is purely  
fiction."  
  
"I'm amazed to see Buffy reading."  
  
"Mom."  
  
"You are being unfair, Joyce. Remember her SAT scores."  
  
"Sorry, hon."  
  
"Giles, could you pull into the next rest stop? I need to freshen  
up."  
  
"Of course. I'll make hotel reservations."  
  
Ten minutes later, Giles and Joyce were in the lobby of a crowded  
building. Buffy had run ahead of them, and now they stood amid  
the noise and confusion of a fast-food cafeteria.  
  
"I hope you're not thinking of dining here, Joyce."  
  
"Not I. We should think about where we'll stay tonight."  
  
"How much more driving should we do?"  
  
"I could stand about an hour more. Why don't we make reservations  
now. I hope we don't go broke this week."  
  
"I'm not as poor as you would think; I do have some family  
money."  
  
"A remittance man? Ripper gets 1,000 pounds a month as long as he  
stays away?"  
  
"Not quite."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"800 L."  
  
Joyce laughed, and Giles joined her. They went to the hotel kiosk  
and made a selection.  
  
"Two rooms, right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
---  
  
"It used to be that I'd camp out in the backyard but be able to  
use the kitchen and bathroom."  
  
"I'm still not sure whether it's worth camping out to be here  
with you."  
  
"No sense of adventure, Cordy?"  
  
"Please, Xander. I think I've had all adventure burnt out of me."  
  
"You'll recover. Though I hope we never need to deal with  
anything like that again."  
  
"I don't see how it's possible."  
  
"Hellmouth. Well, let's have dinner."  
  
"Never change, Xander."  
  
---  
  
"Hi, Mom."  
  
"Hello. And you are?"  
  
"Jonathon."  
  
"Jon and I are working on a project for school."  
  
"School? Oh. Should I make dinner for the two of you?"  
  
"It's not necessary, Mrs. Rosenberg; I'll get a bite to eat  
later."  
  
"No, Jon. Please stay. You're entitled. A member of the gang."  
  
"Probationary, I hope." Mrs. Rosenberg went into the kitchen.  
  
"Your choice."  
  
"She doesn't know?"  
  
"She probably thinks we mean college. I don't ask any more. Helen  
Keller was more aware of her environment than my mom is."  
  
"Back to work. Could you call the choir leader? I'll call the  
head of the school band. I think he's still alive."  
  
"What a world."  
  
---  
  
"Ah, we have arrived."  
  
"Just a happy little family on holiday."  
  
"Mom, do you know what you're saying?"  
  
"I think, Buffy, that your friends would roll their eyes and say  
'Duh.'"  
  
"Let's get our rooms, wash up and have dinner."  
  
"Rooms? Two rooms?"  
  
"Yes." "Uh-hunh."  
  
"Who stays where?"  
  
Giles and Joyce looked appalled. 


	5. Telling Stories

Monday Night  
  
Xander and Cordy had finished their dinner and bagged their  
trash; they heard happy shouts and childish squeals from a nearby  
clearing. "You feel like turning in yet, Cor?"  
  
"Nah. I feel too sociable. Want to join them?"  
  
They walked toward the voices, and they saw a campfire with an  
adult couple and a few college students around it. Meanwhile,  
some children were racing around the campsite playing hide and  
seek. One of the students was playing a guitar.  
  
"Mind if we join you?"  
  
"Not at all."  
  
"I'm Cordy and this is Xander."  
  
"Hi!"  
  
---  
  
Willow heard a tapping from the front door.  
  
"That must be Oz." She ran to greet him.  
  
Jonathon closed the notebook he was writing in and went to put  
some books back into a bookcase. He turned away from the door.  
  
"Oz!"  
  
"Hey, babe." Oz and Willow kissed, and then Oz pulled back and  
said, "Jonathon?"  
  
"We met at the hospital. We're setting up a memorial service."  
  
Oz nodded. "Seems right. Good idea, Jon. Hello."  
  
"Hi. We met while giving blood. Have you yet?"  
  
Oz looked a little stricken at that, while Willow replied, "Oh,  
he can't. He's been exposed to hepatitis, I think." Willow then  
whispered to Oz, "Larry died this afternoon."  
  
"Sorry, Jon."  
  
"Well, I'll head off. It looks like you, well--"  
  
"Oz will drop you off. Sunnydale isn't safe, you know."  
  
"Course."  
  
The three went to Oz's van.  
  
"What do you want to do tonight, babe?" asked Oz. "Bronze it?"  
  
"Not tonight. We should stop by there--I promised the people at  
the blood center I'd try to get some volunteers, but I don't feel  
like dancing."  
  
"Understood. Jon, you OK?"  
  
Jon waved his hand; he couldn't say anything.  
  
"Sorry, man."  
  
"If you want to talk, call me in the morning, Jon."  
  
They drove to Jon's house and saw him to his door. "Thanks,  
Jon."  
  
Jon went inside, turned, and waved at them again; he looked  
smaller than usual. They nodded, and Jon closed the door.  
  
They walked briskly to the van; Sunnydale was no place to dawdle  
at night. After they got into the van and locked up, Oz asked:  
  
"Hepatitis?"  
  
"Couldn't tell him the truth, could I. Ooh, my boyfriend can't  
give blood because anyone who received it would turn into a wolf  
the next full moon, and we don't want werewolves to be running  
around in hospitals, but I couldn't tell him that you are a  
coward, because you're not, so I just came up with something  
plausible that wouldn't make you sound bad, and should I stop  
talking now?"  
  
He gently kissed her. "Yes." They drove off toward the Bronze.  
  
"Can we just hold each other tonight, Oz? I feel a bit weird."  
  
"Just hit you, didn't it."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I love you. It's not just about sex, Will. I'll hold you, and  
we'll remember them together."  
  
---  
  
"... And from the driver's door handle dangled a large hook."  
  
"Oh, boo," called out Xander.  
  
"Lame," added Cordelia.  
  
"Oh, can you do better?"  
  
Xander and Cordelia started giggling.  
  
"Which story should we tell?"  
  
"Leave A out of it."  
  
"Right. Follow my lead," said Xander. "This happened about two  
years ago. There was a girl in our high school, Marsha Rossberg."  
  
"Rossberg?" asked Cordelia.  
  
"Please, Cordy."  
  
"She tried to maim me!"  
  
"Everybody was tempted to do that at least once, Cordy." Xander  
then murmured, "I wanted a story without any Type Vs."  
  
"OK. Go ahead."  
  
---  
  
"I'm going to soak in the spa for a while. Will you two be okay?"  
  
"Fine, Buff."  
  
"We'll be fine. Go relax. You've earned it."  
  
The three of them got up from their dinner table, and Buffy went  
off to change.  
  
"How is she, really?"  
  
"She's the strongest gir--sorry, the strongest woman I've ever  
known. I'm not sure, though. She looked so lost after the battle  
was over. She blames herself for the casualties. Now, I don't  
know."  
  
"She seems okay."  
  
"We both know that can be deceiving. She keeps a lot bottled up  
inside; the more we get her to talk, the better she'll be. Try to  
listen, really listen."  
  
They walked into the cocktail lounge and sat down at a booth in  
back. A waitress went over and took their drink order, and then  
they sat awkwardly for a minute. Each of them tried to begin a  
sentence, but failed to say anything remotely understandable. The  
waitress came back with her wine and his Scotch, and they each  
took a sip. Finally, Giles managed to choke out:  
  
"How are you?"  
  
"Terrified. What do I say to you?"  
  
"I know. Our indiscretion--does it hurt you that we made love?"  
  
Joyce laughed. "We didn't make love; we had hot sex. I know the  
difference. Besides, it wasn't even us."  
  
"You don't hate me, do you?"  
  
"No. Not for that, at least. You were as much a victim as I."  
Joyce looked around for a moment, and then talked more softly: "I  
do resent you sometimes, though. About Buffy, I mean. I blame you  
for making her be Her."  
  
"Joyce, you know I didn't Choose her."  
  
"I know that, and I know you've kept her alive and sane so many  
times. But the entire situation is insane. How can a system that  
makes an 18-year-old girl face those pressures be right?"  
  
"Or a 15-year-old girl. I was trained to think that the Calling  
was right and proper, but now that I've seen what it does, I'm no  
longer so sure. Still, all I can do is help her with everything  
that I am."  
  
"It's too much. When I saw her the other night, I thought she was  
going to break. How much more can she take?"  
  
"I don't know. She is unique, you know. No Slayer has ever faced  
the quantity of enemies she has. And she has prevailed. And no  
Slayer has ever had the allies she has. I wish you could have  
seen her on Graduation Day. She was a Queen leading her knights  
into battle. She was magnificent."  
  
"In the end, she's just a teenager."  
  
"She's not 'just' anything. Not just a teenager, not just a  
Slayer. She's grown up. Oh, she has a few rough spots, but she's  
grown up."  
  
Joyce nodded and finished her drink. "Has she talked about Angel  
much?"  
  
"Why, no. I'm surprised actually. Angel was in her nightmares,  
but not in our conversations." He paused. "Of course, she might  
be trying to spare my feelings. No, she's actually more  
concerned with the students who fell in the battle."  
  
"I hope she can get past him."  
  
"I hope she can. And I."  
  
---  
  
Oz looked up from his computer. "Larry's funeral is Wednesday."  
  
"We'll go."  
  
"Yes." Oz put the computer into sleep mode and they got into  
bed. "So tell me about Jesse."  
  
---  
  
"We never saw Marsha again. Frankly, I think she's now an  
invisible 'La Femme Nikita'. But, if someone you ignore in high  
school just disappears, watch out. She might be right  
behind--Oof!" Xander found himself sprawled on his back next to  
the fire. "Cordy!"  
  
"You were ignoring me."  
  
Xander shook his head and returned to Cordy's side. "I'll never  
do that again."  
  
"You sound like that story actually happened," said one of the  
other teens.  
  
"It's just a story."  
  
"Keep telling yourselves that."  
  
---  
  
"So, what do we do now, Rupert?"  
  
"We relax. We are a happy family on a well-deserved vacation."  
  
Joyce just stared at Giles.  
  
"Too domestic?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Let's go find Buffy."  
  
"Do you want to use the spa yourself?"  
  
Giles cringed. "That wouldn't be proper."  
  
"Sorry." They walked through the hotel to the pool area, where  
they saw Buffy in the spa. She had slipped low in the water, her  
head was tipped back, her hair trailed behind her, her eyes were  
closed, her breathing was slow, and her body was  
relaxed. Suddenly, she gave a start and leapt from her seat,  
splashing the other bathers. She exited the pool, apologizing to  
the others.  
  
Joyce and Giles caught up with her as she reached the chair with  
her towel. Joyce asked, "Are you okay?" "Just a flashback. Not a  
prophecy, Giles." They went back to their rooms.  
  
---  
  
"So Xander's dad forced him into Little League; he wanted to make  
a man out of him."  
  
"Ha. What does he know?"  
  
"Have you ever met his dad?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, his idea of being a man involves sports and lots of beer."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"So, Jesse joined up to keep him company, and I went to their  
first game to cheer. Jesse turned out to be pretty good, while  
Xander was, well, Xander. In the bottom of the first, Jesse lined  
a double to right. Then, in the bottom of the second inning,  
Xander hit a ball that the shortstop just barely caught up with,  
and he managed to beat the throw, but he tripped on first base  
and went sprawling. The rest of the team started to laugh, and  
Xander's dad started to scream at him; I knew Xander was about to  
cry, and I yelled out something encouraging. He heard me, took a  
deep breath, and returned to first.  
  
"The next inning, someone hit a ball over Xander's head in  
right. He ran back for it, and it just tinked off his glove. He  
picked it up and threw it back, and then the manager just started  
screaming at him. So did his father. Some people are  
vamp-cruel. Anyhow, the manager put in someone else mid-inning,  
and Xander trudged to the bench. He looked miserable. Jesse led  
off the next inning, and I saw him wink at Xander. The manager  
also doubled as the first-base coach, and Jesse proceeded to line  
foul ball after foul ball through the coaches' box. Finally, he  
bounced one off the manager's head, knocking him out. The two  
quit the team after the game, and everything was fine. Except  
for Xander's dad, of course. You know, something similar happened  
two years ago."  
  
"And Xander had to stake Jesse. This damned town."  
  
"Yeah." Willow hugged Oz and they both lay there until they were  
relaxed enough to sleep.  
  
---  
  
"So, do you have any more stories?"  
  
"There was the candy we sold," said Cordelia.  
  
"No, Cordy--Giles wouldn't want us to talk about that. What about  
your trip to college?"  
  
"Ewwww! I hate snakes. No, please. What about Ms. French?"  
  
"You've got bugs in your head. Hey, let's talk about Chris and  
Daryl."  
  
"You are asking for me to tear you from limb to limb. Hey, I  
have it. Remember your performance on the swim team?"  
  
"You wouldn't dare."  
  
"Don't act coy. You know you loved it."  
  
"You are going to pay for this."  
  
"I know."  
  
---  
  
"How bad is it, hon?" Joyce and Buffy were back in their hotel  
room.  
  
"I don't know. I just can't seem to relax. Whenever I try, I  
think I see something to stake. Or something coming after me. Or  
you. Or Giles."  
  
"I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you that you'll get over it."  
  
"As if I'd believe you."  
  
"And you don't think I have my nightmares too?"  
  
"I can't help that. I tried to keep it a secret, but it didn't  
work out."  
  
"I know. I'll adjust to watching my baby put herself in danger  
every night. Someday." 


	6. Relationships

Tuesday Morning  
  
Willow awakened before Oz. She stayed still, her head resting on  
Oz's chest, listening to his breathing. He stirred about ten  
minutes later, and she smiled at him.  
  
"Babe?"  
  
"Just looking. It's so peaceful here. Usually, I wake up and my  
thoughts are, well, whirling, but here I'm at peace."  
  
Oz leaned toward her and kissed her. "That's like how I feel. I  
look at you, and everything becomes clear." They kissed again.  
  
"No more ironic detachment?"  
  
"None."  
  
"Good. If there's one good thing about the Hellmouth, it's that  
it made us stand for something. God, I was a mouse before I  
knew. If Buff hadn't come here--"  
  
"You'd be dead, possibly a vampire."  
  
"Well, that too. But following Buff--I learned to stand up for  
the good guys. And for myself. The only good thing about the  
Hellmouth."  
  
"Yes." He kissed her again. She placed her finger on his lips and  
said, "Shh. Enjoy." and began to kiss her way down his body.  
  
---  
  
Xander stirred in their sleeping bag, and his elbow caught  
Cordelia in the shoulder.  
  
"Hey, Fish-boy, watch out where you put your fins."  
  
"Huh?" Xander flipped onto his back and sighed. "You certainly  
found a way to make me feel crabby."  
  
"You're an easy one to bait."  
  
"I told you you'd pay for this." He held her head to his and  
kissed her hard.  
  
"Right." They continued kissing for a few minutes, and then  
Xander gently pressed upon her shoulders, pushing her lower.  
  
"Selfish much?"  
  
"Sometimes. I told you that you'd pay."  
  
---  
  
Joyce awakened, and stifled a yawn so as not to disturb her  
daughter. She turned toward the other bed in her hotel room, and  
smiled as she saw a still-asleep Buffy. Buffy's hair lay in  
swirls around her head, her face bright in the morning light, and  
her body relaxed and slack. A damp spot on her pillow showed  
where her mouth had rested, and Joyce giggled at her babyish  
drooling. "If only she could sleep like this always," Joyce  
thought.  
  
Joyce sat on her bed hugging her pillow, a token of her sleeping  
daughter. She remembered many a night's vigil watching over Buffy  
during childhood illnesses, during flu and chicken pox, during  
colds and ear infections. Sometimes, Hank would sit with her, or  
would take over for her, but Joyce always had felt it was her job  
and no other's. Buffy was her daughter, her always surprising  
daughter. Now, she sat vigil again. She watched. She Watched.  
  
There, next door, was Giles, with twenty years of training in  
monsters, spells, weapons, and battles, but only three years of  
hard-won experience in dealing with a girl's heart. And here she  
was, with eighteen years of hard-won experience at raising a  
daughter, of changing diapers and soothing scraped knees, of  
confronting school cliques and selling girl scout cookies. She  
had watched Buffy aglow with first crushes and sullen over later  
disappointments. She had seen Buffy betrayed by her distant  
father, her divorcing father, her disappearing father.  
  
But she had had few glimpses of her daughter's terrifying world,  
of a boy who not only broke her daughter's heart but devoured  
others, of solitary battles with inhuman monsters, of betrayal by  
human monsters, of fate and of unwanted destiny. People in 1999  
did not have destinies, but her daughter did. Buffy should have  
been a normal teenager, making normal teenage mistakes, arguing  
with her about curfews and boyfriends, schoolwork and school  
dances. Even mistakes with sex or with (God forbid!) drugs should  
have caused private pain and suffering alone. But her daughter  
could not make a mistake without profound consequences for her  
and those she loved, and now she saw that even Buffy's successes  
still were accompanied by pain and grief. It was an unfair burden  
laid upon her daughter, and she did not know what to do about it.  
  
Buffy, still asleep, made a little sigh and rocked her  
head. Joyce supposed she was dreaming; she hoped it was about ice  
skating or some similarly innocent pursuit. Then she heard a  
quiet tapping from the front door; she quietly rose, put on her  
robe and went to answer it. She looked through the view glass,  
and found whom she expected.  
  
"Rupert?"  
  
"Ah, Joyce. Are you well?"  
  
"I'm fine, Rupert. Come in." They walked into the room, and Joyce  
sat down on her bed. Giles remained standing, and Joyce shook her  
head. Ethan had much to answer for.  
  
"She really is beautiful when she doesn't have to worry," Giles  
said.  
  
"She is. I so rarely see her like this, not for many  
years. First, Hank and I. Then, Hemery. Then Sunnydale."  
  
"She's at peace now, Joyce."  
  
"For how long, Rupert?"  
  
They said nothing more for a few minutes, and then Buffy stirred  
and looked at them. "What, is Buffy-watching a spectator sport  
now?"  
  
"Yes," said Joyce.  
  
Giles said, "Let's get ready for breakfast. I've reserved rooms  
for us in Berkeley."  
  
"We pronounce that with an e here, Rupert. You're right,  
though. Let's go eat."  
  
---  
  
Willow and Oz stood at his window, arm in arm. They heard the  
noises of a suburban weekday morning: bird calls and engine  
throbs, dog barks and baby cries. They heard the house's garage  
door open, saw two cars drive away, and heard the door close  
again. Oz murmured, "They know when to leave me alone."  
  
"And I am thankful. That would have been embarrassing."  
  
"And you--why?" Oz fell silent again.  
  
"I love you, silly. I want to please you. And I want you to know  
you can be selfish sometimes."  
  
"Will."  
  
"This isn't math class. We're not solving equations here."  
  
"But, I'm supposed to--"  
  
"Be the sensitive guy? Always take your turn? We're past that."  
  
"Oh." Oz thought for a moment, and shook his head. "Yes."  
  
"What's up for today?"  
  
Oz thought a moment longer. "I'll talk to Devon and the guys  
about the service. Oh, and I have to get my suit  
dry-cleaned. You?"  
  
"Jon and I are working out a program for the service. Then, I  
guess, I'll try to write my speech."  
  
---  
  
Cordelia and Xander had packed their tent and duffel bags; they  
now looked over the campground.  
  
"One last day here," said Xander.  
  
"One last day."  
  
"I won't try."  
  
"Don't."  
  
"But, you could--"  
  
"No."  
  
Xander made an exaggerated sigh and flopped to the ground. "The  
beach then?"  
  
"Okay. But not that beach."  
  
"And then, Sunnydale. We'll want to get back before sundown."  
  
"Back to the Bronze."  
  
"We practically lived there for three years."  
  
"Well, you did. I got away from you losers sometimes, you know."  
  
"Yes you did. With Moe, and Curly, and Larry."  
  
"Never Larry."  
  
"Anyhow, back to the Bronze. Where will you stay after that?"  
  
"Your place, mine, it doesn't matter. Your dad, my mom--flip a  
coin."  
  
"Parents." It sounded like a curse.  
  
"We really have to do better at that."  
  
"We?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe. Someday."  
  
They picked up their things and walked to Xander's car. As they  
put their bags into the trunk, Xander asked her a question.  
  
"Have you forgiven me yet?"  
  
Cordelia stared at him. He didn't have a smirk on his face, and  
he didn't look awkward either.  
  
"Not all the way yet. It still hurts. Willow still hurts."  
  
"Then, why did you come with me, really?"  
  
"I guess I still loved you, even when I wanted to stab  
you. Anyhow, I couldn't forget you." They closed the trunk and  
took their seats. As Xander put the car in gear, Cordelia started  
speaking again. "It wasn't even the dress. It was that you bought  
it for me with no hope of reward. You looked so happy seeing me  
in it; you'd have been happy for me if I had gone off with  
Wesley."  
  
"I'd have hated him for it, you know. That empty tux."  
  
"Yes, but you'd have been happy for me. You weren't trying to get  
me back."  
  
"So, I got you."  
  
"Besides, I really am tired of hating people. And after our big  
boom, I think it's time to let it go."  
  
---  
  
Tuesday Afternoon  
  
Buffy, Joyce, and Giles sat in a Telegraph Avenue cafe, sipping  
coffees and watching the Berkeley crowd go by.  
  
"Does this remind you of Oxford, Rupert?"  
  
"Not really. Oxford is much older. And the people here are  
new. Infuriatingly so."  
  
"Giles, you're getting all stuffy again."  
  
"I am not."  
  
"You are too."  
  
"Don't be childish, hon."  
  
Buffy remained quiet for a moment. Joyce and Giles relaxed in  
their seats, and then Buffy said, "It's just that it's always old  
things that are trying to get me killed. Old vamps, old  
prophecies, old demons, and old traditions."  
  
Giles looked down at the floor, and then Buffy touched his arm  
and said, "I didn't mean to remind you. It's just that we've made  
new traditions. And when the Council tells us to be a good little  
girl and boy and just die for the cause, we don't listen."  
  
"We use the past; we don't let it use us."  
  
"'When in the course of human events,'" said Joyce.  
  
"Exactly," said Giles. "I hope you don't expect me to start the  
American Council of Watchers, Buffy."  
  
"Why not? You and Willow would be a fine start."  
  
They returned to their coffee, and later browsed the shops and  
bookstores of Berkeley.  
  
---  
  
"Here we go, Cordy. Ten minutes to Sunnydale." They were back at  
the 7-11 they had visited three days before.  
  
"Hell-town. Why am I not pleased?"  
  
"I don't know, Cordy. Because the place nearly killed us?"  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm not staying."  
  
"I know. What about tonight?"  
  
"My place. I'd rather deal with my mom than your dad."  
  
"The Bronze first, though. I'll need an overdose of caffeine to  
deal with either."  
  
"Well, duh! Our home away from home. Who did you just call  
anyway?"  
  
"You'll find out." Xander started the car, pulled it back onto  
the road, and flipped on the radio. "Hey folks, this is KSDL,  
Sunnydale's Classic Rock Station, and we have a request for from  
'X' to dedicate this next song to 'Queen C'. Be a little more  
obscure, folks. Please! Anyhow, here's The Boss with No  
Surrender."  
  
We busted out of class, had to get away from those fools,  
We learned more from a three-minute record, baby, then we ever  
learned in school.  
Tonight I hear the neighborhood drummer sound,  
I can feel my heart begin to pound,  
You say you're tired and you just want to close your eyes,  
And follow your dreams down.  
  
Cordy turned the volume up, and they sang along with the  
chorus. It wasn't the music they danced to at the Bronze, but  
they knew it almost genetically.  
  
We made a promise we swore we'd always remember,  
No retreat, baby, no surrender.  
Like soldiers in the winter's night with a vow to defend,  
No retreat, baby, no surrender.  
  
"Soldiers. I never wanted to be a soldier."  
  
"I liked you with the rocket launcher."  
  
Now young faces grow sad and old,  
And hearts of fire grow cold,  
We swore blood brothers against the wind,  
Now I'm ready to grow young again.  
And hear your sister's voice calling us home,  
Across the open yards,  
Well maybe we could cut some place of our own,  
With these drums and these guitars.  
  
"I feel sad and old."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"That's why I'm leaving."  
  
'Cause we made a promise we swore we'd always remember,  
No retreat, baby, no surrender.  
Blood brothers in the stormy night with a vow to defend,  
No retreat, baby, no surrender.  
  
"You'll still help defend them?"  
  
"What else can I do?"  
  
Now on the street tonight the lights grow dim,  
The walls of my room are closing in,  
There's a war outside still raging,  
You say it ain't ours anymore to win,  
I want to sleep beneath peaceful skies in my lover's bed,  
With a wide open country in my eyes, and these romantic dreams in  
my head.  
  
"One day, maybe."  
  
'Cause we made a promise we swore we'd always remember,  
No retreat, baby, no surrender.  
Blood brothers in the stormy night with a vow to defend,  
No retreat, baby, no surrender.  
  
"I'll always remember." "We'll always remember."  
  
They reached the Bronze just as the sun set; the bouncer waved  
them through without bothering to collect the cover charge. Two  
posters had been put up near the front door; one announced a  
blood drive at Sunnydale Medical, and the other announced the  
community memorial service one week later. Cordy and Xander  
shrugged at each other, and they moved to the usual Slayerette's  
table. Xander ordered their burgers, and they listened to the  
music.  
  
A half-hour later, when they had finished their dinners and they  
were about to move to the dance floor, Xander noticed Willow and  
Oz sweep through the front door. Xander felt a familiar twinge in  
his traitorous heart. Willow, who could have been his Willow had  
he not been blind or deaf, Willow, his best friend and oldest  
memory, Willow, the desirable, desired, and fulfilled--he wanted  
to get up and hug the breath out of her. Of course, he would be  
stabbing Cordy in the back again.  
  
He gripped Cordy's hand and looked at her. "You love too many  
people," she hissed at him. "I know. I love Willow. I love  
Buffy. I love you. Do you expect me to change?" "At least you're  
honest."  
  
Willow and Oz had wound their way through the crowd by then and  
had reached their table; Willow said, "Hey, glad you're back." Oz  
added, "Cordy, Xander." They sat down next to Cordy.  
  
No one said anything for a minute; without Slaying to discuss,  
all they had were themselves to talk about, and too many of their  
possible topics of conversation would pain one of them. Willow  
broke down first; she asked, "So what have you been doing?" Cordy  
stared at her, and Willow immediately turned red with  
embarrassment. "Just about the same thing you've been doing,"  
Cordy said. Willow turned to Oz and leaned into his shoulder, and  
Oz and Xander smiled. A moment later, Willow began to giggle,  
Xander and Oz joined her, and suddenly, all four of them were  
laughing together.  
  
The people at the next table turned to glare at them, and they  
began to calm down; then Xander asked Willow, "So, was it good  
for you?" Then, they all just lost it. Even Oz forgot himself and  
joined in.  
  
When they had finally recovered, Xander said, "I guess we finally  
figured it out. And we needed this." Cordy leaned over and  
kissed his cheek.  
  
Willow then said, "We have been doing something else, you know."  
Cordy prompted her, and Willow continued: "Oz and I have been  
working on the memorial service--Jonathon's idea. You will help,  
won't you?" Cordy and Xander glanced away, and Willow glared at  
them. "You will, won't you?" Xander gave in and said, "What  
should we do?" "Decorations. Set up and tear down. Do it for  
Jesse. And for Kevin." "Okay," said Cordy. "Oh, and Larry's  
funeral is tomorrow. Be there." Xander stared at his shoes for a  
moment, and then he nodded.  
  
---  
  
"Who is Rupert to you, hon?"  
  
"He's my Watcher." Buffy lay back onto her bed.  
  
"That's a job description, not a person. What does Rupert mean to  
you? Do you think of him as a father-figure?"  
  
Buffy paused, and then she said, "Did Dad call? Has he called at  
all about graduation? Have you heard from him at all?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Buffy."  
  
"He doesn't care about me, or you. Well, if he ever calls, you  
don't tell him anything about the battle. He doesn't have any  
right to know."  
  
"He's not the man I married."  
  
"And Giles isn't my father. I don't like fathers. I don't trust  
fathers. But Giles--"  
  
Joyce gripped the bedspread; no one should have to be wounded  
so. "Yes?"  
  
"He's seen my darkest nights, and he understands them. And I've  
seen him at his worst, and I understand him. Sometimes, we don't  
have to say a word to each other--we just know. And that look of  
joy when they gave me the award at the Prom--it was special."  
  
"You love him."  
  
"I guess. I do." Joyce frowned. "Not like that, Mom. Do you think  
I could do what I do without it being for love? Giles, Willow,  
Xander--without them, I'd be dead."  
  
"I just wish you didn't have to go through this."  
  
"I know I've lost a lot, but I've gained a lot too. It feels  
right."  
  
---  
  
"So Giles took Buffy and Joyce away?"  
  
"Yes, Xander."  
  
"Buff must be freaking out there; you saw Ripper and Joyce  
together."  
  
"Oh, come on, Xander. They'd never--I mean they're too old and  
too--what's the word--stiff."  
  
"Oh, come on, Cordy. Just because We--" Cordy's elbow interrupted  
him. "Just because what's-his-name couldn't kiss worth a damn  
doesn't mean Giles can't. And Ripper certainly wasn't stiff."  
  
"Cordelia, my parents still have a good sex life."  
  
"Oz, how do you know?"  
  
"I know, Willow. I can tell."  
  
"Well, it'll be weird for Buffy; I mean, she trains and Slays  
with Giles every day."  
  
"I just don't see the problem."  
  
"Well, I'm sure Buffy does," said Xander.  
  
Cordelia drained her cup of coffee, and then she added, "Well, if  
my parents or yours screwed more, perhaps they wouldn't be so  
screwed up."  
  
"Thank you for sharing, Cordy."  
  
Oz and Willow got up as Xander and Cordy started one of their  
traditional fights, and they went to the dance floor. Ten  
minutes later, they looked back at the table and saw Xander and  
Cordy kissing each other fiercely. Some things never change.  
  
Five minutes after that, Xander and Cordy joined them, Cordy  
reminding Xander not to spaz out. And ten minutes after that,  
they were all spazzing out and singing along with R.E.M. on the  
jukebox:  
  
It's the end of the world as we know it,  
It's the end of the world as we know it,  
It's the end of the world as we know it,  
And I feel fine!  
  
---  
  
"So, why are you so disturbed by the thought of Rupert and I  
together?"  
  
"Well, there's the parents shouldn't have sex thing."  
  
"Grow up, hon."  
  
"And Giles--he's been just there in my life so long; we train  
together, read together, fight together, and every day. I mean,  
I'd have to hold a crossbow on Dad to get him to pay attention to  
me."  
  
"I'll try to give you the chance if you want."  
  
"But, Giles is always there for me; I guess I just think of him  
as mine."  
  
"Oh, hon. Oh, hon. That's the one thing you cannot do. You can't  
make him into just your Watcher. Do you want to be just the  
Slayer?"  
  
"No. I have a life."  
  
"Well, you can't make him just be just your Watcher. Dad  
couldn't make me be just a housewife, and I couldn't make him be  
just the good husband."  
  
"Pity."  
  
"I tried, but he didn't want to cooperate. And we blew up."  
  
"I'm sorry. I sure didn't help, did I?"  
  
"I thought your problems were a symptom of ours, not a cause. How  
could we know that your problems were vampires?"  
  
"You couldn't. Did Dad blame me?"  
  
"I don't know. He never said."  
  
"But Giles and you? Are you interested in him?"  
  
"Well, he is attractive, but no. Actually, you are the only thing  
we have in common." Joyce turned away from Buffy and looked at  
the connecting door to Giles' room. "I hope I'm not fooling  
myself," she thought. 


	7. The Mourning After

Wednesday Morning  
  
Larry Blaisedale's open casket lay at the front of the  
chapel. The mourners lined up to pay their last respects: first,  
the immediate family, then some members of the High School  
football team, then a group of students including Jonathon,  
Willow, Oz, Xander, and Cordelia, and finally a few  
stragglers. Jonathon bowed his head when he reached the casket,  
but otherwise made no sound. Willow turned exceptionally pale as  
she reached the front, and Oz steadied her. Oz in turn sucked in  
his breath, but his expression didn't change. Xander and Cordelia  
stood side-by-side at the coffin; Xander murmured to Cordy, "This  
happens too damn often."  
  
They took their seats and watched the last few in line reach the  
front. The last man in line, a thin blond teenager, reached the  
coffin and gripped its side. After a moment, he turned toward  
Larry's family, tears pouring down his eyes. Some of the family  
members turned away from him, but most of them greeted him  
cordially. An elderly woman got up and hugged him, and Xander's  
eyes went wide.  
  
The minister gave a short eulogy, mentioning Larry's school and  
football record, his relationship with his family, and the  
tragedy of an 18-year-old left mortally-wounded on his graduation  
day. Larry's parents made short speeches, and so did one of his  
friends on the football team. No one mentioned what actually  
happened at graduation, and and no one referred to Larry's being  
gay.  
  
After the service was over, the group walked to their cars, and  
waited for the funeral procession to sort itself out. Jonathon  
asked disgustedly, "Did the minister even know?" They heard a  
voice from behind them saying, "I guess he didn't want to get  
half the family mad." They turned; it was the blond they had seen  
earlier. "Well, that too," Oz said.  
  
"Um, have we met before," asked Cordelia.  
  
"Probably not. I live about twenty miles East of here. You?"  
  
"We knew him from school," said Xander. "Um, you and him were?"  
  
"Dating. We dated a few times."  
  
Xander nodded, and Willow and Cordelia looked at him. "Larry  
told me his grandmother had fixed him up."  
  
"Yeah. Sweet old lady. Oh, I'm Tom." The gang introduced  
themselves. Tom added, "Did you know him well?"  
  
"A little. We've talked a few times," Jonathon said.  
  
"Oh, right. He told me; you were the one who--sorry." Jonathon  
flushed a bit. Tom turned to Xander, and said, "And you were the  
one he thought--"  
  
Xander interrupted him: "Please don't go there."  
  
"So, why are you here?"  
  
"For him. For the school. Somebody has to remember," said Willow.  
  
"He was brave; much more than me," added Jonathon.  
  
"He invited me to the school prom, you know. I said no; I was  
scared. No matter how tolerant people say they are, you know it's  
not really true."  
  
Cordelia replied, "Well, I have to admit there's an 'Ick!' factor  
for me." Xander and Willow groaned. "But, hey--you're  
human. That's a plus in my book."  
  
"Human--as compared to what? Space aliens?" No one answered  
him. "Well, so I was too cowardly to go to his prom, and I didn't  
go to his graduation because mine was the same day. You don't  
expect anyone our age to die, to die like that."  
  
"Well, I'm glad you could make it here," Xander said.  
  
"Sorry it was like this," added Oz.  
  
The funeral procession was ready to go, and they got into their  
cars and joined it. When they reached the cemetery, the heat was  
stifling; a breeze did little more than sting their faces. The  
six of them stood together in the rear of the mourners, each lost  
in thought.  
  
Xander thought of Jesse and the funeral forever denied him, and  
Cordelia remembered Kevin, murdered two years before. They  
turned to each other and sagged into each other.  
  
Tom stared at the grave and didn't make a sound. When he started  
to sway, Jonathon put his arm around Tom's shoulders and they  
watched the service together.  
  
Oz and Willow held hands. Oz seemed preternaturally calm; the  
only sign that the funeral had affected him was an occasional  
series of rapid blinks. Willow listened to the preacher say his  
final words about Larry, and soundlessly she began to cry. She  
turned to face Oz; he awkwardly patted her hair and then brushed  
some of her tears away. A frightened look came over her face, and  
she turned away from Oz. Oz wrapped his arms around her waist,  
and she started to sob.  
  
The gravediggers lowered the coffin into the grave, and the  
mourners came forward to make their final good-byes. Tom and  
Jonathon went forward, while the others spared themselves  
this. Xander tried to catch Willow's eye, and she said "Go,  
Xander. I'll be all right." Her voice was too weak for anyone to  
believe, and Oz asked Xander and Cordelia if they could get  
Jonathon home. They nodded, and Oz led Willow to his van.  
  
Oz lifted Willow into her seat and carefully buckled the seatbelt  
around her, and then he drove them back to her house. At each  
stop light and sign, he leaned over and stroked her arm or rubbed  
her neck. They got there, and he walked her to her room and  
arranged her on her bed. Her sobs had dwindled to the occasional  
sniffle, but only because she was exhausted.  
  
Oz sat on the bed next to her and asked, "Where are you, Willow?"  
  
"I should be in Hell."  
  
"Let me in, Will. What happened?"  
  
"They were reading a psalm, and I realized that I want to  
live. I'm not leaving--I'm not going to betray Buffy or Giles or  
us, but I want to live. I want a life more than just fighting  
monsters and evil people."  
  
"That's not a bad thing."  
  
"I don't want to live in fear. I want more out of life than what  
Larry got, or all the rest. Then I turned toward you, and I  
realized that I wanted to live and love with you. I want marriage  
someday, and children, and grandchildren. And I looked at you and  
I wanted to kiss you right there, at Larry's funeral." She tried  
to turn away, and Oz lifted her into an embrace and kissed her.  
  
Oz said softly to her, "Don't apologize for what you feel. Cry if  
you need to, but don't apologize for that." Willow pulled back,  
her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Feel, Willow. It's what  
makes us human. It's a good thing. I'm sure Larry would  
understand. I know I do."  
  
Oz lay back on the bed, and Willow curled up, leaning her head  
upon his chest. They pulled the bedspread over them, comforted  
each other with kisses and hugs, and finally Willow fell  
asleep. Soon, Oz too fell asleep, lulled by her soft breathing  
and her familiar scent.  
  
---  
  
Xander and Cordy too had left the funeral soon after Oz and  
Willow had; they had gotten Tom to drive Jonathon back to  
town. They parked at the old playground; it was nearly empty, as  
the heat had driven people to their air-conditioned homes. They  
sat on a bench overlooking some toddlers on the swings.  
  
"So, Larry thought you were gay?" Cordelia started to laugh.  
  
"Why don't you tell everybody about that? Shout it out to the  
world."  
  
"Oh, Xander. Nobody cares. Besides, I know why he thought that."  
  
"Do tell."  
  
"It's the panic, Xander. He went all macho around girls to hide  
his panic about being gay. Now, you can't ever be macho."  
  
"What do you mean? I'm not a 'macho macho man?'"  
  
"Don't even try. It won't work."  
  
"OK, so I'm not a grunting football player."  
  
"No one's asking you to be, except your Dad."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, you were so panicky around all of us--Larry just assumed  
that you were gay. He didn't know you were just being Xander."  
  
"I assume that's not completely an insult."  
  
"Whatever." 


	8. Conflict and Tears

Wednesday Evening  
  
Buffy, Joyce, and Giles had done most of the standard  
touristy things; they had taken the cable cars, walked down  
the very curvy street, had lunch in Chinatown and coffee in  
South Beach, and had shopped in Ghirardelli Square. Now  
they were dining in a restaurant near Fisherman's Wharf.  
  
"This is wonderful," said Giles. He had ordered a paella, Buffy a  
baked salmon dish, and Joyce mahi-mahi, but soon they were busy  
stealing portions of each other's dinner. "It's astonishing what  
one can do with seafood. And, that garlic soup--"  
  
"You won't have to worry about vampires tonight," said Joyce.  
  
"I guess coming from England you aren't used to good food," said  
Buffy. Joyce glared at her.  
  
"I think it's the competition, Rupert. There are so many  
restaurants here that a poor one could not survive long."  
  
"How could you stand fish and chips, Giles?"  
  
"I couldn't, Buffy. My father always thought that a lower class  
food, and Council training stressed proper nutrition. Oil and  
grease were right out."  
  
"I wish I could tell Buffy that."  
  
"You should look at Xander, Mom."  
  
The waiter took their plates and they ordered dessert and  
coffee. He soon returned with Giles' flan and Buffy and Joyce's  
ice creams. After he left, Joyce said, "Well, Buffy, I hope  
things will work out better for you now."  
  
"I hope so too, Mom."  
  
"I wonder what she'll be like?"  
  
"Mom?" Buffy and Joyce exchanged nervous looks.  
  
"Faith's replacement--what will she be like?"  
  
Giles coughed, and Joyce turned to him. "Faith has no  
replacement."  
  
"What do you mean? She was called after Kendra--" Joyce looked  
around and stopped talking; after all, they were in a public  
restaurant.  
  
"Joyce, Faith isn't--" Giles couldn't go on for the same reason.  
  
"But you--" Joyce picked up a knife and made a stabbing motion,  
and then mimed something falling off the edge of the table.  
  
"Mom, she's in the hospital. The doctors don't think she'll ever  
wake up."  
  
"But she has to be--" Joyce couldn't say the word. "How else can  
you be safe?" They finished their dessert in silence, paid their  
check, and took a taxicab to the subway station.  
  
---  
  
Willow and Oz had awakened mid-afternoon. Neither of them were in  
any mood for lovemaking, and they got up and dressed in their  
emergency post-Slaying outfits. They went into her living room  
and went back to their tasks of planning the service. Oz made  
some phone calls and took some notes, and Willow stared at her  
computer.  
  
"What's wrong, babe?"  
  
"I don't know what to say. I know I have to give a speech, but I  
don't know what to say."  
  
Oz drummed his pencil against the table for a moment. "Trust  
your heart. But remember, the speech is supposed to be about  
them."  
  
She nodded. After a moment, she nodded again, turned to her  
computer, and started to type.  
  
Oz phoned up Devon; after a long bargaining session, he managed  
to persuade Devon to participate in the service. They spoke for  
a few minutes about what they'd play there, and then he hung up.  
  
Willow's hands flew over the keys of the computer; she could play  
a keyboard far better than he could his guitar. He looked as  
paragraphs took shape and were dismissed, as menus danced and  
words swayed. Willow saw nothing but the monitor, he knew. The  
other students had disparaged her and dismissed her for her  
interests, for her efforts, for the concentration she applied to  
each of her tasks, for the enthusiasm they considered  
inappropriate. He loved her for all those things, and yes for her  
body also.  
  
Oz picked up his guitar and strummed a few chords; soon he  
started to play a mournful tune, a lament for those they had  
lost. Friends, enemies, and bystanders--it mattered little to  
him. Each had some value to the world, and each deserved a  
memorial. Soon he too was lost in concentration.  
  
He reentered the world before she did; the body enforces its own  
limits, and he went to the kitchen to satiate his hunger. He came  
back with a sandwich and juice for her; ten minutes later, she  
looked aside and noticed them.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Welcome, babe."  
  
He picked up his guitar again while she devoured her food. He  
was playing the tune he had improvised before when she asked him,  
"Playing that at the service?"  
  
Oz nodded, and she listened. After he finished she said, "Sounds  
good. It's from the heart."  
  
"I'll tweak it a bit, but it'll do. Do you need an extra pair of  
eyes?"  
  
"Nice to have a proofreader. I always miss a typo."  
  
Oz put their dishes in the dishwasher, and the two of them  
consulted over the computer screen, their heads touching, arguing  
over commas and dangling participles, syntax and connotation. As  
they were working, Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg walked into the house  
and sat down at the kitchen table. They did not notice.  
  
Around ten o'clock, they finally got up from the computer, their  
concentration shot.  
  
"Time, Will?"  
  
"Time for us, yes."  
  
Both somewhat dizzy, they stumbled their way toward Willow's  
room.  
  
"And where are you going?" interrupted Mr. Rosenberg.  
  
Willow and Oz turned toward him; both of them were calm, though  
in Willow's case it was the calm of exhaustion.  
  
"We're going to bed."  
  
"You and this boy, in our house? Sheila, come here. Do you know  
about this, Sheila?"  
  
"That's Oz, Ira. Willow and Oz have been dating for a few  
months."  
  
"A year, Mom. Over a year."  
  
"And they're sleeping together, Sheila? How long has that been  
going on?"  
  
"Oh, they'd never do that. Willow knows how dangerous that  
is. All research shows that the longer girls wait, the better  
their lives are."  
  
"Mom, listen to me. We are going to bed. We were--we are going to  
have sex."  
  
"Get over there and sit down." Willow and Oz sat down on the  
living room loveseat, Sheila Rosenberg sat on the couch, and Ira  
Rosenberg stood on the other side of the coffee table, looking  
like a county prosecutor. "So, how long has this been going on?  
How long have you been sneaking around behind our backs?"  
  
Willow seemed to collapse inward upon herself, and then Oz  
reached to her and squeezed her shoulder. Suddenly she stood up,  
her eyes flashing with anger, and Ira Rosenberg took a step  
backwards. "This? We have been dating for over a year, but that's  
not what you were asking. And, we've been together that  
way--having sex--for the last week. I wish we'd started  
earlier. And sneaking around? How unnecessary is that? We don't  
have to sneak around you because you don't see anything."  
  
"You're our little girl, Willow. We care about you," said Sheila.  
  
"Only theoretically, Mother. You look at your studies and your  
parenting journals, and you decide what would be best for the  
typical girl of my age. Well, I'm not a datum in a paper; you  
can't reduce me to numbers and statistics. And I am not a little  
girl."  
  
"And you, what do you have to say for yourself, young man?"  
  
Oz stood up. "Willow speaks for both of us. I would never insult  
her by trying to speak for her." Willow turned to Oz and took his  
hand.  
  
"And what do you mean about that last statement, Willow? We don't  
see anything?" asked Ira.  
  
"You don't see anything. Do you know what we've been doing for  
the last few days or months or years? Do you care that the school  
blew up, or that we've had friends die? I shouldn't even bother  
mentioning that you two didn't bother visiting me in the hospital  
last year."  
  
Sheila and Ira looked at each other and shook their heads; they  
hadn't remembered.  
  
"But sex, Willow? Do you know what happens to immature teenage  
girls who get themselves in too deep? They end up submerged in  
their boyfriends' lives, lessened in every way," said Sheila.  
  
"Immature?" Oz chuckled.  
  
"Immature? Lessened?" Willow's tone went high and a bit squeaky,  
but she took a deep breath and returned to an even, forceful  
voice. "Oz has never tried to make me be any less than I can  
be. Oz would never try to squeeze me into a box, to treat me as a  
thing. He loves me, all of me. I love him, all of him. He  
couldn't ever try to restrict me."  
  
"Look at you; you could have gone to a good school, like Harvard,  
or Yale, or U. Chicago. Instead, you're following your boyfriend  
to the local rinky-dink college," said Ira.  
  
"So I could have gone to one of your precious Ivies and be like  
you? I'll pass. I have good reasons for going to UCS, and it  
isn't because of Oz."  
  
"What is it, then? Are you following your friend Bunny around?  
That violent troublemaker? She's a bad influence on you." Oz  
slammed his hand down on the coffee table.  
  
"That's Buffy, Mother. Buffy Summers. And without her, I'd be the  
timid mouse I was three years ago. Do you know what Buffy means  
to us, to everyone in our school, to everyone in this town?  
Buffy, a troublemaker? She stops trouble, not starts it."  
  
"You are not going to insult Buffy around us. You don't have the  
right. Willow, let's go."  
  
"Let's." They walked past her parents to get their things from  
her room, and Ira and Shelia followed them. As they were packing,  
Willow said with a disgusted voice, "Do you know what we did  
today? We buried a brave man who could have been a friend. So we  
were going to comfort each other in bed. We were going to have  
sex, for comfort, for love, and yes, for lust. If there ever are  
good reasons for two people to go to bed, those are. Now we  
won't, because now it would be for anger, and Oz won't ever do  
that."  
  
Willow had put her clothes in her overnight bag, and then she  
opened her weapons bag. "Need some, Oz?" Oz nodded, and she  
pulled a couple of stakes out and tossed them to him. He placed  
them in his pockets. They marched past her parents to the living  
room, grabbed her laptop and his guitar, and left. Sheila and Ira  
Rosenberg watched them drive off in Oz's van, completely  
stunned. Soon, they turned to each other, and Shelia wept.  
  
They arrived at Oz's house ten minutes later. The two of them  
went in and rushed to his room, waving at Oz's parents watching  
television in the den. Oz's parents waved back, Oz's mother  
mumbling, "It figures."  
  
The two dropped their bags and sat on his bed. "How do you feel,  
Will?"  
  
"Vile. Almost as bad as when I cast the Restoration spell."  
  
"'Only theoretically, Mother.' Good line."  
  
"I think it's been two years since I had a real conversation with  
them."  
  
"I'm glad I don't know the feeling."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Will, do you still want to?"  
  
"Oz?"  
  
"I don't want to let them ruin it for us."  
  
"I would if you would. Oh, yes."  
  
---  
  
"How do you live here, Xander? This basement stinks."  
  
"Why do you think I'm going away?"  
  
---  
  
On the train to Berkeley, Joyce tried to speak, but she looked at  
the other people on the train and lapsed back into silence. Buffy  
whispered in Giles' ear, "What do I say? 'Sorry I only put Faith  
in a coma,' seems off." Giles whispered back that he'd try to  
find out what Joyce was thinking, and they waited through the  
rest of the ride.  
  
They got out at the Berkeley station, and they took a taxi to  
their hotel. When they got to their rooms, Buffy picked up a bag,  
said she had a date with a punching bag, and walked out. Giles  
went into his room, and Joyce threw herself onto one of her  
beds. A few minutes later, Joyce knocked on the connecting door  
to Giles' room, and he let her in.  
  
"I'm sorry, Rupert."  
  
"Joyce."  
  
"I just assumed that she was dead. I mean, Buffy's very good at  
what she does." Giles made a noise of agreement. "So, you told me  
she stabbed Faith, and I just thought--"  
  
"I am sorry I gave you that impression, Joyce."  
  
"Will she ever wake up?"  
  
"The doctors don't think so, but they don't know a Slayer's  
capabilities. I sneaked a look at her chart, and even I can't  
tell you."  
  
"And how long will she last?"  
  
"I don't know that either."  
  
"Damn."  
  
The conversation halted for a few minutes; no form of awkwardness  
could escape the Slayer's Mother and the Slayer's  
Watcher. Finally, Joyce spoke a coherent sentence again.  
  
"The thing is--what do you think of me?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Suppose I weren't Buffy's Mom. What would you think of me?"  
  
Giles considered his words carefully. "Joyce? If I had walked  
into your gallery, I would have noticed the handsome woman  
proprietor."  
  
"Handsome?"  
  
"We're both too old for pretty. Pretty is for teenagers like  
Ripper and Joycie."  
  
"Don't sell us short."  
  
"We might have talked for a bit, but I'm not particularly good at  
chatting women up."  
  
"Look at me! The only man I've dated in the last few years tried  
to kill my daughter."  
  
"There's something you should know about Ted."  
  
"I'm not going to like this, will I?"  
  
"I'm afraid not."  
  
"Well, tell me. It's too late now."  
  
"He wasn't human."  
  
"Huh? I saw him in the sun; he wasn't a vampire."  
  
"No, he was a robot."  
  
Joyce was quiet for a moment and then she slumped into a  
chair. "It figures. Life in the Twilight Zone."  
  
"Don't feel bad, Joyce. Willow and Xander have had similar  
experiences."  
  
"And Buffy."  
  
Giles didn't answer that; his feelings toward Angel were still  
too raw for him to speak about. "In the end, Joyce, our lives are  
too different. Were it not for your daughter, there would be no  
connection between us."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
They both stopped talking again.  
  
---  
  
Buffy had taken some of her frustrations out on the hotel  
punching bag; a young boy had looked up at her and said, "You're  
good." She smiled back. Now, she walked catlike to the room and  
opened the door quietly, in case her mother was asleep. No one  
was in the room, and she frowned.  
  
Soon, she heard voices from Giles' room. She fell victim to her  
curiosity, and she listened at the connecting door.  
  
Joyce started speaking again. "The thing is, even if we wanted to  
date, we couldn't."  
  
"Because of Buffy?"  
  
"Because of Buffy. I don't care that she'd be going 'Ewwww!' all  
the time. But, she will always be the most important person in  
your life; I'd always be in second place. I'm glad of that--she  
needs an honorable man behind her. But, I'd always be an  
afterthought."  
  
"Oh, Jenny," thought Buffy. "He never gets a break, does he?  
Eep!"  
  
Giles just nodded; Joyce was right.  
  
"The thing is, I look at you--you're a brave, nice man. You'd be  
a great husband and father. But, you're in my worst nightmares."  
  
"Joyce?"  
  
"Rupert, do you know how often I have nightmares of Buffy going  
out to battle and not coming back? Of you telling me that my  
daughter is dead?"  
  
Giles rose from the bed and stood next to her chair. He leaned  
down and said in a husky voice, "I'd die for her."  
  
"I know." Joyce gripped his arms and looked up at him; tears  
flowed down her face. Tears flowed down Buffy's face too.  
  
After a minute, Joyce started speaking again. "Then, when I found  
out about Faith, I hoped she would help. I was selfish; I hoped  
she'd take over completely, that Buffy would be able to  
retire. And now, she tried to kill my daughter. Why?"  
  
"She didn't have anyone like you, Joyce. Life wounded her, and  
Slaying gave her the power to wound back. In the end, we couldn't  
reach her."  
  
"And now, Buffy's the only one. They'll keep coming after her;  
sooner or later they'll gang up on her, or someone will get the  
idea of using a gun, or running her over, or burning the house  
down. She'll never be safe."  
  
Giles said weakly, "Vampires tend not to use guns or cars; it's a  
blind spot."  
  
"Still. That's why I said that about Faith's replacement; I hoped  
that whomever was called next could take over, and give Buffy  
peace."  
  
"I don't think, Joyce--" Joyce rose from her chair and started  
pacing.  
  
"Now, she might last years like that; years for Buffy to battle  
on her own."  
  
"Never on her own, Joyce."  
  
Joyce wasn't listening. "Or she might wake up, and then she'd try  
to kill Buffy again." Giles didn't respond; he was scared of what  
Joyce might say.  
  
"Rupert, that's why we have to kill her."  
  
Giles stared at her in shock, and then he took a breath and said,  
"What? No, Joyce. We don't kill human beings, no matter what the  
provocation."  
  
"Your damn Council was willing." Right then, they heard a loud  
bang from the connecting door. Giles quickly went to the door,  
and they heard another bang from it. Giles unlocked and opened  
the door, and Buffy ran inside.  
  
"You're off your form, Buffy."  
  
"Yeah, well, I didn't want us to pay the repair bill." She glared  
at her mother and said, "No, Mom. Stop right there. What are you  
saying?"  
  
Joyce tried to glare back at her daughter, but it was useless;  
she could not propose murder and claim parental authority. She  
sank to her knees and laid her head upon the bed. "It was the  
only way to keep you safe, to let you quit." Joyce's voice was  
weak and breathy.  
  
Buffy cut off what she had been about to say and just looked at  
her mother; Joyce seemed utterly defeated. Buffy gently lifted  
her onto the bed; her mother's weight was nothing to her.  
  
"Mom. Mom. Mommy." Joyce looked up at Buffy's last word; it had  
been years since she'd heard it last. "Mom, it's okay. I'm  
not--we're not going to let them win." Buffy extended an arm  
toward Giles. "Me and Giles, and Willow, and Xander, and  
Oz--we'll make our own destinies. We've never obeyed the rules,  
and we won't lay down and die no matter what demons or vampires  
or watchers say. And we'll find some way to end this system."  
  
A light seemed to glow in Buffy's face; she had the look that  
mesmerized the demonic form of Mayor Wilkins, that caused fire  
demons to run from her, and that cowed whole hosts of  
vampires. And looking at her, Joyce could almost believe  
her. Buffy and Joyce embraced, and Buffy led Joyce back into  
their room.  
  
---  
  
"What on earth is that noise?" Willow heard a sound like a bird's  
coo from somewhere inside Oz's house. Oz leaned over her and  
listened.  
  
"That's Mom."  
  
"Mom?"  
  
"What do you know--Cordy was right yesterday."  
  
"What? Oh. That's rare."  
  
Oz shushed her with a finger and bent himself toward her breasts.  
  
---  
  
"What on earth is that noise?"  
  
"A beer bottle smashing against a wall, I think."  
  
"Xand, do you think they ever loved each other?"  
  
"I think they loved each other when they got married, but they  
haven't for a long time. Not since I was born. I think that tore  
it for Dad at least. A busted career, and another mouth to  
feed. Trapped. That's when he really picked up the bottle. And he  
thought it was all my fault just for being born."  
  
"Idiots. Him for thinking that and you for believing him."  
  
"And Mom--she and Dad would fight, and she'd run to her sister's,  
but she'd always come back. She could have left; she could have  
taken us away, but she stayed with Dad. And she picked up the  
bottle too. In the end, she's a coward."  
  
"Which is why you try to be absurdly brave. Tell me again--why am  
I here?"  
  
"Because your family is screwed up as mine, only in a rich sort  
of way."  
  
"Uh-huh. I guess they couldn't love each other. They only love  
things. And I learned from them." She spat out the word, "Fakes!"  
  
They heard a crash from upstairs. "Your place tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
---  
  
"Mom, you know I can't quit, don't you?"  
  
"I know, hon." They turned off their lights, and they settled  
into fitful sleeps. 


	9. A Quiet Day

Thursday Morning  
  
There is no protocol for teenaged lovers sleeping together and  
then having breakfast with one lover's parents. Willow and Oz  
joined Oz's parents for breakfast, and they sat around the  
kitchen table in silence, none able to say a word.  
  
One thing saved the morning, however; the coffee machine beeped  
to announce the birth of a new pot. Oz's mother got up to bring  
the carafe to the table, and she offered to pour for Oz and  
Willow.  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
Oz looked at Willow and said, "No."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No."  
  
Willow glared at Oz, and he glared right back; after thirty  
seconds, she turned away. Oz's father asked, "What was that  
about?"  
  
"Willow reacts oddly to caffeine; I'd have to spend the next hour  
talking her down. I think Buffy had to tackle her and lock her in  
a closet once."  
  
"Oh. Decaf?"  
  
After that, the four of them started to talk normally  
again. Willow and Oz even told his parents more of the graduation  
story.  
  
"Vampires."  
  
"Demons."  
  
"Well, what do you expect? Jordy and I are werewolves. If you can  
believe that, you can certainly believe in vamps."  
  
"So, the mayor was trying to become a demon?"  
  
"A real big demon. Large economy size."  
  
"The man had ambition, Mom. You have to give him that."  
  
"But Buffy and Giles blew him up real good."  
  
"Sounds like bad fiction."  
  
"We're thinking of moving to Castle Rock, Maine."  
  
"We'd miss you."  
  
They finished their breakfast, Oz's parents drove off to work,  
and then Willow and Oz grabbed their things and headed off, Oz to  
band practice, and Willow to Jonathon's house.  
  
---  
  
"Eighteen years of this? No wonder you're twisted."  
  
Xander struggled to his feet and walked upstairs; his parents  
were gone. He swept the kitchen for broken glass and put it in  
the recycling bin. "Coast is clear, Cordy!"  
  
Cordy stomped up the stairs, grumbling. "Broom closets were  
safer."  
  
"And cleaner, I know."  
  
"What's up for today?"  
  
"I'm going to see if I can get some photos of Larry and the  
others. Can you stop by the church and handle the decorations?"  
  
"No. I'll go to the church and tell you what decorations to put  
up."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
---  
  
Thursday Afternoon  
  
"Did you intentionally get her drunk, Giles?" Giles was driving  
them from the Napa Valley, and they could hear Joyce's snoring  
from the back seat.  
  
"Why would I ever do such a thing?"  
  
"You aren't Ripper right now, are you?"  
  
"With you around? I should say not."  
  
"So, why did you encourage her to taste all those glasses of  
wine?"  
  
"So we could talk."  
  
"Good. Mom's scaring me. Last time she acted like this, a demon  
told her to burn me at the stake. But this time, it makes a  
twisted sort of sense."  
  
"I agree, Buffy. It combines rationality with a mother's  
ruthlessness. It's a way for her to make a difference. It's the  
wrong way, but it is a way. And she's right; Faith will be a  
danger to you as long as she lives."  
  
"Do you think she'll wake up?"  
  
"You would."  
  
"Don't tell Willow that; she'd freak. Do you think Mom will do  
something about Faith?"  
  
"I believe it would be best if she never finds out where Faith is  
transferred to."  
  
"Or she might get out her axe. Has this happened to other  
Slayers?"  
  
"Usually, Slayers are separated from their families, for the good  
of both. As always, you are the exception. What do you want to  
do about Faith?"  
  
"I have some ideas. I'll have Willow trace where they send her,  
and I'll see if I can do something then." 


	10. Routines, Old and New

Friday Morning  
  
Sunlight shined through Oz's window and illuminated the faces of  
the sleeping couple. They were on their sides, spoon-fashion with  
Oz holding Willow from behind, and they started wriggling as they  
started to awaken. They murmured endearments in their  
semi-conscious state, and Oz started to lean over her and kiss  
her ear.  
  
The alarm clock on the night table rang loud, shattering their  
mood, and Oz reached for it blindly to turn it off.  
  
"Ugh. Nice dream." Willow turned her head and saw Oz. "Not a  
dream. Why do we have to wake up?"  
  
"The band. We've got to be on the road by 10."  
  
"Aww. No snugglies until Monday."  
  
"You'll survive. I'll survive."  
  
"Don't pick up any groupies."  
  
"Devon's job, not mine."  
  
Willow wriggled free of Oz's embrace. "I feel sticky."  
  
"We're doing it right."  
  
"Up, Mister. You go shower. I'll strip the bed."  
  
"Yes, boss." Oz rolled to his feet and went into the  
bathroom. Willow got up, stripped the sheets off the bed, and  
then put fresh ones on. She looked at the clock. "Two hours?  
We've got time." She went into the bathroom and joined him in the  
shower.  
  
Twenty minutes later, after they had cleaned their bodies and  
dirtied their minds, they went back into his bedroom and got  
dressed. Oz packed his clothes for the trip, and he went  
downstairs to prepare breakfast while Willow loaded the washer.  
  
They sat next to each other at the kitchen table and leaned into  
each other while they ate their grapefruit and their waffles. It  
was a quiet time for them, a day of peace.  
  
"If only this would last, Oz."  
  
"I'll do everything I can to make it last."  
  
"But the vamps will be back soon. Hell always says 'Hello!' on  
the Hellmouth."  
  
"All the more reason to enjoy today. Shh." Oz led her into the  
living room, took out his guitar, and played a tune he was  
writing for her. The "Ping!" of the washing machine eventually  
interrupted them, and she got up to transfer the clothes to the  
dryer while he grabbed his duffel and his electric guitar. They  
loaded his van, and Oz dropped Willow off at her home. She then  
called Jonathon; they agreed to meet there for lunch and to work  
on the service.  
  
---  
  
The Chase house was nearly empty; the bankruptcy filing had taken  
nearly everything, and the bare walls and floors mocked Cordelia  
as much as the squalor of Xander's basement mocked him. Xander  
woke up and saw Cordelia standing at the window, facing  
outside. He walked behind her and slipped his arms around her  
waist.  
  
She froze for a moment, and then she dropped her hands to his and  
pushed them away. "Don't."  
  
"I'm not trying to." And he wasn't trying to pull her back to  
bed. Xander knew better.  
  
"Just go, Xander." Her voice was weary and teary.  
  
"I'm not going, Cor. I won't leave you like this."  
  
"How can you stand to look at me? Everything's gone."  
  
"You're still here. You're what's important. Not things."  
  
She fell back toward him, and he caught her and wrapped his arms  
around her again. This time, she accepted them.  
  
"I'm not leaving, Cordy. I'm here for you, for us." Cordy sagged  
in his arms, and he lowered her to the floor. He got in front of  
her and held her gently while she burst into tears. He rocked her  
gently, the way her favorite nanny used to do when she scraped a  
knee.  
  
"Don't let them destroy you, Cordy. They're not important,  
really. You are. You'll never give up, and you'll survive them  
all. I know it." Cordy looked up at Xander. "And you know it  
too."  
  
---  
  
It was a day of enforced rest for Buffy, Joyce, and Giles. A  
torrential rainstorm had hit the Bay Area, and no one wanted to  
brave the weather. Joyce and Giles sat around the indoor pool  
while Buffy compulsively swam laps.  
  
"Do you swim, Rupert?"  
  
"Certainly. Watchers need to be able to survive in any  
terrain. Slayers tend to survive just naturally." He winced at a  
memory.  
  
"That bad, huh?"  
  
"Master Sergeant Swinnerton was a right old bastard, retired from  
the SAS. I was the oldest trainee that form--sorry, that year,  
and I wasn't 18 any more. On marches, I always ended up trailing,  
and so he'd load my pack with an extra sword or two.  
  
"I finally got my revenge on him. We were practicing hand-to-hand  
combat. Of course, he paired me with him. After a a minute of  
getting my ar--sorry, behind--kicked by him, I used a Ripper  
trick on him."  
  
"You used magic on him."  
  
"In a sense, yes. I stepped back and made some motions with my  
right hand, like this." Giles demonstrated. "'You gormless  
bastard!' said old Swinny, and he lunged at my hand. Whereupon I  
kicked him in the left leg, breaking it. He fell, and I pinned  
his arm and put my hand around his neck. 'It's against the rules  
for trainees to use magic. It's not against the rules for  
trainees to fake using magic.' I visited him in hospital after  
that, and he told me never to change. He's still a bastard  
though."  
  
"I'll bet your bosses weren't pleased."  
  
"Most weren't. Travers certainly wasn't. But the Council Chairman  
was. 'The Watchers need someone who can bend the rules to  
succeed,' he said."  
  
"I see why you and Buffy get along so well."  
  
"There are few rules we haven't broken at least once. That's why  
we're still here."  
  
"Does your Council understand that?"  
  
"No. Good riddance."  
  
"You say that, but it must be wrenching for you."  
  
"Ah, but one must grow up eventually."  
  
They heard a loud splash next to them, and they turned toward the  
sound. Buffy had finished her laps, and she was holding onto the  
side of the pool in front of them. "Hey, Giles! When was your  
last workout?"  
  
Giles groaned, and he said, "A fortnight ago, I'm afraid."  
  
"Well, you'd better get back in shape, or I'll wipe the floor  
with you when we get back."  
  
"May I remind you that we have nowhere to train?"  
  
"I guess I'll take that job at the Y."  
  
"Train in public?"  
  
"Do you have a better idea?"  
  
"I'm afraid not. But, Sla--we're not supposed to do that."  
  
"Giles, how many people saw us in action at the school? Do you  
think they'll forget what they saw and did?"  
  
"Joyce, I must beg a favor of you. Please save me a shred of  
dignity. Don't come and watch."  
  
"Of course, Rupert."  
  
"Cool."  
  
---  
  
"I think that about covers it. Cordy and Xander have the banners  
for the church, you took care of the photo shop, and I've got the  
program under control."  
  
"Willow, I hope we don't screw this up. We owe them."  
  
"Let's save our stage fright for Tuesday. Do you want to stay for  
dinner? I want to do something--I haven't done it in years, and  
it's likely to really confuse Mom and Dad."  
  
"What? Nothing bad, I hope. Where's your Mom anyway?"  
  
"Nothing bad, just an irresistible impulse. And, I don't know  
where they are, and I don't care. We had a big fight Wednesday  
over Oz. Can you drive me to the supermarket? I'll need some  
supplies."  
  
Jonathon looked nervous. "This isn't magic stuff, is it?"  
  
"No, just food. A special type of food."  
  
At times like this, Willow sought things she was familiar with:  
familiar foods, familiar books, familiar music, and familiar  
traditions. She would reenact an old tradition, one that her  
family had not practiced for six years, since her Bat Mitzvah.  
  
They went to the gourmet Yuppie supermarket, and she picked up  
some ready-to-eat food for dinner. Then, she went to the ethnic  
aisle and picked up some candles. Then, she went to the bakery  
and picked up two loaves of challah. They paid for the food and  
went back to her house.  
  
"Disasters bring you back to religion?"  
  
"'There are no atheists in foxholes.' I'm going to go to Beit  
David after dinner. It's 10 to 6. I hope they get back soon."  
  
"Your Mom and Dad? Do they work too much?"  
  
"Dad tries to get home at a reasonable hour Fridays, and Mom--I  
don't know what she's up to. Can you help me set the table?"  
  
"Sure. Which plates?"  
  
"Over there." She set the food in the oven to keep warm, and she  
set two candles in two candlesticks. She put the challah onto a  
plate and put an embroidered cover atop, and she fumbled around  
in the liquor cabinet. "Ah, the good stuff. Chateau Weinstock. I  
hate the typical kosher sweet wines. Here, put this yarmulke on."  
  
Her parents got home at 6:05, They put their briefcases down and  
walked into the living room. They were surprised to find the  
formal dinner set up, and then Willow tossed her father a  
yarmulke. A little dazed, he did, and they stood at their seats  
as they had done long ago. She proceded to light the candles, and  
she led them in singing the prayer: "Baruch atah Adonai,  
Elohaynu, melech ha-olam asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav, v'tzivanu  
l'hadlik ner shel shabbat."  
  
A tear came to her father's eye as he sang the Kiddush, the  
blessings over the wine, though he had to refer to the prayer  
book she had found in the bookcase. Then, she prompted her mother  
to read the Ha-Motzi, the blessing over the bread.  
  
They sat down for diner, and the conversation was reasonably  
civilized. As long as the Shabbat candles burned, none of them  
was willing to start a fight. They got through dinner, and Willow  
said, "Birkat Ha-Mazon?" At her father's bewildered look, she  
said, "I guess not. Jon, can you drop me off at the synagogue?"  
  
"Of course." Willow rushed to her room, hurriedly changed  
clothes, and rejoined Jonathon and her parents. The Rosenbergs  
looked nearly as bewildered as they had been two nights before,  
and the two teenagers walked out.  
  
When she walked into the synagogue, she noticed a family waiting  
at the door. The mother said, "Willow? Willow Rosenberg?"  
  
"Yes. Excuse me?"  
  
"Jonathon Levenson told me that you two were organizing the  
memorial service. We really have to thank you two." Willow gasped  
and looked down at her feet; she knew why they were at the  
door. One does not formally mourn on Shabbat, but mourners wait  
outside the sanctuary until after the Lecha Dodi hymn.  
  
The father nodded. "We lost our son, Solomon Admore, last  
Saturday. I'm sure he appreciates what you are doing for him." He  
proceeded to introduce the remaining members of his family, as  
tears rolled down Willow's cheeks.  
  
"Were you there?" Mr. Admore nodded again. Willow hugged each of  
them and stood with them as the service went on.  
  
She walked with them into the sanctuary, and at the end of the  
service she stood up with them to recite the Mourner's  
Kaddish. They stayed for the Oneg Shabbat, and then they dropped  
her off at her home.  
  
"You'll come to the service?"  
  
"We are honored."  
  
---  
  
"Ugh. I hate this."  
  
"We weren't going to stay at your house, Cordy."  
  
"Your father scares me."  
  
"Try living with him. Let's try not to wake him."  
  
"Oh, he won't be up until morning." Cordy pointed at a pile of  
empty cans. They sneaked into his bedroom and went to bed. 


	11. Evading Destinies

Saturday Afternoon  
  
"Where are you now, Buffy?"  
  
"I'm right here, Mom."  
  
"You don't look here."  
  
Buffy sighed. They were outside the San Francisco Museum of Art,  
and Giles had gone to get them drinks. "Thinking about Sunnydale,  
Mom."  
  
"We're still on vacation."  
  
"Vacations end. This can't last. I've got vamps to slay and  
graveyards to patrol."  
  
"You sound like that's the only thing you'll ever do in your  
life."  
  
"It's like--there's a riddle, and I think I know the answer. If I  
miss a riddle, people die. But answering the riddle just gets me  
another riddle. If I can figure out what's behind the riddles, I  
might be able to get out of the game."  
  
Joyce hugged Buffy. "Even now, I can't comprehend your  
situation. But, I'm glad you're thinking about the meaning of it  
all. I hope there is a meaning."  
  
They saw Giles coming back with some iced coffees. "There has to  
be a meaning to all of this. And, if we don't like it, Giles and  
I will find a way to twist it."  
  
Giles handed them their drinks. "What will we be doing, Buffy?"  
  
"Evading destiny, the way we always have."  
  
Giles smiled. "It's what we do best."  
  
"But, it's time to go back home and face it again."  
  
"Yes. We have a lot of work to do."  
  
---  
  
Saturday Night  
  
"Don't worry about it."  
  
"I just feel strange. I've never felt comfortable here."  
  
"Jon, we're all feeling strange. At least here it's normal. I  
mean, you saw the bouncer checking out everyone in a  
mirror. Besides, you might find someone to dance with."  
  
"As if."  
  
"Two years ago at the Spring Fling--"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"It was bad, but we still went dancing afterwards." Willow looked  
at her watch. "Xander and Cordelia should be here soon."  
  
"Cordelia? I'd better go."  
  
"No, Jon. Please stay. She seems to have become almost human, and  
that's almost as miraculous as our surviving Graduation."  
  
The waiter came by and dropped them off their sodas. Jonathon  
grabbed his and stood by the dance floor watching the other  
dancers while Willow sipped her drink and lost herself in the  
music. Ten minutes later, Cordelia and Xander joined her.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey, Xand. Cordy."  
  
"Willow."  
  
Willow looked at them with concern. They had bags under their  
eyes; they did not look happy. "What's wrong, Xander? You look  
tired, and not because you've been having fun."  
  
"Have you noticed how crappy parents can be, Willow? You know  
Xander's, and mine?" Cordelia shook her head and tossed her hair  
over her shoulder.  
  
"Wills, we really need a place to stay. Any ideas?"  
  
"Oh, hell. Your Dad again? You can't stay at--" Xander shook his  
head very fast, and Willow saw Cordelia freeze up. She let out  
her breath and said, "Well, mine aren't always a bargain  
either. You two probably don't want to stay at my place."  
  
Cordy snorted. "Hah-hah. I'd almost prefer Xander's basement."  
  
"As it is, we're considering camping out again."  
  
"Near Sunnydale? You'd might as well commit suicide."  
  
"And if I have to hear his father rant and rave one more time, I  
just might commit suicide. Or homicide, whatever's more fun."  
  
"Why don't you stay at Buffy's? You have your emergency key  
still, right?"  
  
"Emergency key, Xander?"  
  
"Yeah, well, we all have a key to her place in case we need more  
supplies. I'm not so sure about staying there."  
  
"Oh, crud. Do I have any dignity left?"  
  
They heard a new voice from next to their table: "That's just  
what I was going to ask you."  
  
"Aura. How nice to see you. I thought you were going to the  
Riviera."  
  
"And the sooner you go, the better," murmured Willow. Xander  
nodded.  
  
"Oh, we're leaving tomorrow. So, what are you doing with the town  
loser and the town nerd? I know. I just heard a marvelous story."  
Xander clenched his fists. "I heard that one of the richest  
couples in Sunnydale has been cheating on its taxes, and the IRS  
is taking everything away. I wonder who that can be?"  
  
Willow looked stricken. "Keep your voice down, Aura," said  
Xander.  
  
"Do you think anyone cares about your piece of gossip, Aura? What  
do you care, anyway?"  
  
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You've slipped to their level,  
Cordelia. Serves you right. Class tells, and lack of it tells  
too."  
  
Willow recovered. "What do you know of class, Miss Perfect?"  
  
"There's class, and there's class, Aura. You don't know the true  
meaning of the word."  
  
"Sure, Cordelia. You've gone back to the loser who cheated on  
you. Of course, you both have loser parents now. And you're  
friends with the geek he cheated with. Where's your date, Willow?  
Or are you stealing this geek back again?"  
  
Willow looked at Xander and Cordy, and all three started to  
grin. Then Jonathon said from behind Aura, "Would you like to  
dance?"  
  
Aura turned around, and said, "With you?"  
  
"Yes, with me. You really should; you need to get away from this  
table right now."  
  
"And why is that, you jerk?"  
  
"Why, didn't you know? Those are the third, fourth, and fifth  
most dangerous people in Sunnydale. You really don't want to know  
what happens when you get them angry." They nodded. Aura turned  
and glared at them, and they calmly stared back. She stalked off.  
  
Jonathon sat down with them and said, "Should I be disappointed?"  
  
Willow replied, "She's not worth it, Jon." She then looked at  
Xander, and he mouthed at her, "Later." Willow nodded, and said,  
"Jon, you want to dance?" "Sure." They moved to the dance  
floor. "Actually, Oz would be fourth." A minute later, they saw  
Xander and Cordelia kissing. 


	12. A Forced Favor

Sunday Evening  
  
Giles' Citroen wheezed its way down Revello Drive, sounding like  
Jack Benny's old Maxwell.  
  
"Can we go any faster, Giles? I really want to get home before  
sunset."  
  
"I thought you said there wouldn't be any problems for a while,  
Buffy. Was that the truth?"  
  
"Joyce, I don't anticipate any problems for a few  
weeks. Nevertheless, it's never a good idea to be wandering  
around Sunnydale at night."  
  
"Probably not. Buffy, someone seems to be sitting on our porch."  
  
"Flaming red hair. Reading a book. Willow."  
  
"I hope nothing's wrong." Giles tapped his horn, and Willow  
looked up. Giles parked the car in the Summers' driveway, and  
Willow met them.  
  
"Will, is anything wrong?"  
  
"All quiet on the Western front." Buffy and Willow hugged each  
other. "But there's something I need to talk to all of you  
about." Giles arched an eyebrow, and they quickly unloaded the  
car and brought the Summers' luggage inside.  
  
"So, Will, what's the what?"  
  
"This should explain it." Willow reached into her book bag and  
pulled out three small booklets, which she handed to Buffy,  
Joyce, and Giles.  
  
"The Sunnydale High School Memorial Service? Who are the  
organizers?" asked Giles.  
  
"It was Jonathon's idea, but Xander, Cordy and I have been  
helping. The rest of the school is supporting us."  
  
"That's very thoughtful, Willow. I'm sure it will help bring  
peace to the families," said Joyce.  
  
"Yeah, well, it was the least we could do." Willow looked a  
little pensive.  
  
"What's wrong, Willow?" Suddenly, looks of horror appeared on  
Giles' and Buffy's faces, and Willow nodded. "You might want to  
look at page 4."  
  
Giles looked at the program and simply froze, while Buffy  
sputtered out, "A speech? The last speech?"  
  
"It will be good for the two of you. You'll have to deal with  
what happened sometime. Why not now?"  
  
"But I'm not good at this, Will. You know that. I slay. I don't  
talk."  
  
"You are going to write a speech. You have to. Besides, I've  
already distributed the programs." Willow glared back at Buffy,  
and she nodded in surrender.  
  
"A Bible reading, Willow? I'm not very comfortable with the  
idea."  
  
"It's the Apocrypha, actually. I think it's fitting. And, you  
really have to deal with what happened too." She glared at  
Giles, and he wilted; Joyce was fascinated by the way Willow  
handled them.  
  
"Where on Earth did you dig this set of verses from, Willow?"  
  
"Jon's parents went all Civil War-wonky ten years ago. This is  
from one of the books they bought." Giles looked puzzled, while  
Joyce breathed out, "Dearest Sarah," and that puzzled Giles even  
more.  
  
Joyce phoned a pizza order while the others chatted about the  
trip. After the pizza was delivered and devoured, Joyce took the  
dishes and glasses into the kitchen.  
  
"I thought I emptied the dishwasher before we left. And Chinese  
food in the garbage?" Joyce came back to the living room holding  
some evidence. Willow flinched, and Joyce glared at her. Willow  
flinched and said, "Uh, Mrs. Summers, I can explain."  
  
"Then do so. Who used my house while we were gone?"  
  
"Xander and Cordelia needed a place to stay. I suggested here."  
  
"Xander and Cordelia? Xander and Cordelia? Willow, you didn't  
suggest this as a place for them to have sex?" Giles made a  
clucking sound.  
  
"No. Their parents."  
  
"Oh. I know Xander's, but Cordelia's?"  
  
"It's really bad, Mrs. Summers. I'd prefer not to talk about it."  
  
"Oh, all right. But next time, ask first!" Willow and Buffy  
escaped upstairs to gossip.  
  
Joyce stretched out on the couch while Giles leaned back into his  
living room chair.  
  
"Xander and Cordelia. I never thought they'd ever get back  
together. Just seeing Cordelia's looks at him in the library made  
my teeth ache. It must be the graduation."  
  
"That must be the reason. Graduation should be a time of  
reappraisal; I guess they gave up their hate."  
  
"And I would never have imagined that they'd do this," said Giles  
as he waved the memorial program.  
  
"It was their school, and their peers. They have the right and  
the duty to do it."  
  
"True. Still, this is unusual, even for them."  
  
"Willow's right, you know. The two of you need to do something  
like this. It will be good for you. You're not really used to  
dealing with people, are you?"  
  
"It's a strain dealing with Buffy, let alone her friends."  
  
"They're good for you, you know. You'll do well Tuesday." 


	13. The Community of Sunnydale

Tuesday Night  
  
The crowd walked through the narthex of the Church of Our Lady of  
Perpetual Hope, passing tables with old yearbooks, pictures, and  
newspaper articles about the High School. The church was the most  
natural place for them to hold the service; Giles and Buffy  
obtained their holy water from its pastor, Father Abernathy.  
  
Nearly all the survivors of the Class of 1999 and of the SHS  
faculty were there. Most had brought their families, and some of  
the mourning families were there too. No reporters or television  
crews were there; there was a general feeling that only the  
community of the High School was welcome, and that those who had  
abandoned them or who were blind to the evil there should stay  
away.  
  
Buffy sat in the center of the front row, there by right of  
sorrow and pain. Giles sat at her right, and Willow and Oz at her  
left, with Joyce behind her looking over her shoulder. Xander and  
Cordelia sat on Giles' right, and Jonathon and Tom sat further  
down the row. In the back row, far behind them, sat Wesley  
Wyndham-Price. He was dressed informally for a change, as he  
could not fit his tweed suit over his casted arm and his back  
brace. Just before the service was to start, a man in an  
ill-fitting mismatched suit sat next to him and took off an  
absurd hat.  
  
A podium stood next to the altar, and twelve large photographs of  
the martyred students and faculty sat on easels flanking the  
altar. At 7:30, the SHS Band took their places at the apse, in  
front of the photographs. Their costumes were burnt and torn, and  
their flags were in tatters; each member wore a black  
armband. There were empty places in the ranks, where members were  
dead or were too wounded to march, while some members wore  
crutches, casts, or used wheelchairs. The drum major raised his  
baton, and the crowd quieted.  
  
The students stood up, and the band began to sing the school  
anthem. No one would ever sing the anthem again; no one knew when  
the High School would ever be replaced, but it would have a  
different name and a different meaning to its students. The band  
and the rest of the students sang the final chorus together, and  
the band returned to its seats.  
  
Father Abernathy came to the altar, followed by the church Youth  
Choir. He led the choir in a requiem, and then he called for  
Jonathon to come to the podium.  
  
"We are here tonight to remember the friends and classmates we  
lost last week. We're not good at remembering people here. If we  
think back on it, we all knew people who mysteriously  
disappeared, or who were killed in some bizarre way. And we  
always ignored it. We cannot ignore it now.  
  
"Ten of our fellow students and two of our teachers, yes and  
Principal Snyder, died because of last Saturday. They weren't  
killed by a gas leak, and they weren't killed by an earthquake:  
they died in battle, fighting something that would have killed  
all of us, killed our families, and destroyed our city. If we  
were to forget them, we would not be worthy of their  
sacrifice. If we were to forget them, we would deserve to have  
been killed ourselves.  
  
"They were the bravest of us. They were not necessarily the  
strongest of us or the most athletic, and they probably were as  
scared as I was. But they faced their fears, and they died  
defending us. Some of them were campus heroes before this  
happened, and some of them we wouldn't have recognized if we had  
passed them in the halls. Now here, they are all equal, and we  
are here to honor them. We are all equally in their debt, and we  
can only repay them by making the most of our lives, by not  
throwing them away, and by being ready to do for our fellow men  
what they did for us.  
  
"Please rise while I read the names of our friends."  
  
Jonathon paused while everyone stood up. He caught Buffy's eye,  
and she gave him a sad smile.  
  
Solomon Admore.  
  
Larry Blaisedale.  
  
Carole Eccles.  
  
Jesus Hernandez.  
  
Ms. Dorothy Iverson.  
  
Donald McMaster.  
  
Yves Montcalm.  
  
Mr. Charles O'Brian.  
  
Zoe Ann Sutter.  
  
Martin Talbot.  
  
Edward Vandiver.  
  
Stephen Zoller.  
  
Jonathon and the students remained silent for a minute, and then  
Jonathon nodded and said, "Thank you." He then said in a softer  
voice, "Oz, Devon". Oz picked up his acoustic guitar and moved to  
the front where two chairs had been set up. Devon pulled out a  
harmonica. Jonathon returned to the front row, and Willow gave  
him a hug before he sat down. Tom looked at him angrily and  
asked, "What are you talking about? A battle?" "Later."  
  
Oz and Devon began to play the lament Oz had composed. It was  
unbearably sad; Oz had abandoned the frenzied guitar work the  
Dingoes had been known for, and Devon weaved in and out with  
counterpoint. They traded off, playing slower and slower, until  
it seemed like everyone's heart would stop along with the  
music. Then, they switched to a major key, and they brought the  
music to a resolution that somehow included a measure of  
hope. They returned to their seats, and Jonathon returned to the  
podium. Jonathon introduced friends of the departed to tell  
something of what they lived for.  
  
One of Solomon Admore's neighbors told of his childhood obsession  
with Sandy Koufax, and the time he tried to run away from home  
and sneak on a bus that would take him where the Dodgers were  
training.  
  
One of Larry Blaisdale's teammates spoke of Larry's many  
sides. Larry, the dedicated football player. Larry, the macho  
jock. Larry, the struggling student. Larry, the budding  
writer. Larry, realizing he was gay and afraid the football team  
would reject him. Larry, struggling to integrate all the parts of  
his life. Finally, Larry finding peace, acceptance, and  
happiness.  
  
Carole Eccles' uncle told of her wish to become a gymnast, her  
years of dedication and practice, how she gave it up after  
anorexia nearly killed a teammate, and how she helped nurse her  
teammate back to health.  
  
Jesus Hernandez's cousin spoke of Jesus' pride in his family, and  
how they had lived in the Sunnydale area for longer than  
California was a state. his cousin explained that Jesus had  
campaigned against restrictions on bilingual education, but that  
he had also been a volunteer in an English literacy program.  
  
One of Dorothy Iverson's students had come back from graduate  
school to explain how she had been the only teacher to see  
anything in him. He explained that with her encouragement he had  
learned to love history, and with her help he had been able to  
get into college and later graduate school.  
  
Donald McMaster's father told of his dedication to the Boy  
Scouts, how he had earned his Eagle Scout badge two years before,  
and how he had saved the life of a camp counselor who had been  
thrown out of a canoe while going through vicious rapids. That he  
had jumped from his canoe to rescue the counselor was a matter of  
instinct, and that he had fought at graduation was the same  
instinct.  
  
Yves Montcalm's sister spoke of how Yves wanted to drive race  
cars, and that he had spent all his spare time at a race track  
twenty miles away learning auto mechanics and learning to race  
midget cars.  
  
Charles O'Brian's wife told of his struggle to preserve funding  
for classical music in the SHS curriculum, and how he fought  
against having the curriculum being dedicated only to  
test-taking. He had been proudest that one of his studens had  
become a violinist for the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and another  
had become a flautist for the Marine Corps Band.  
  
Zoe Ann Sutter's mother talked about her struggle with leukemia  
as a toddler, how she had remained brave throught the pain of  
chemotherapy, and how she had been inspired to become a doctor  
afterwards.  
  
One of Martin Talbot's middle school teachers told how he had  
taken up running in order to forget about his parents' crumbling  
marriage. He had felt free only while running on the school  
track, and his dedication had earned him a scholarship to  
Pepperdine University.  
  
Edward Vandiver's girlfriend read three sonnets he had written  
for her, and told how on a dare he had won a poetry slam  
competition at a coffeehouse in San Diego.  
  
Stephen Zoller's aunt spoke about how he was an ordinary boy, how  
he had no special aptitudes or problems in school, no great  
athletic talents, but had a genuine interest in everything and  
everyone around him. She had every confidence that he would have  
found a vocation later, but that he was an ordinary teenager,  
sometimes awkward, sometimes confident, always human. And, that  
was all right too; you didn't have to be exceptional to defend  
the things you loved.  
  
The speakers returned to their seats, and the Youth Choir came  
forward to sing the Te Deum, and Father Abernathy led the  
congregants in a psalm. Then, Willow took the podium.  
  
"I suppose we won last week. It doesn't feel like a victory; we  
lost too much. The Rabbis tells us that he who saves one life is  
accounted as though he saved the entire world, and he who takes  
one life is accounted as though he destroyed the entire world. In  
this case, we lost twelve worlds last Saturday.  
  
"Ten students and two of our teachers died because of graduation,  
and for what reason? Because a man wanted to achieve immortality  
and unparalleled power. Because he was willing to destroy many  
lives to work his will. We don't know what our friends would have  
done with their lives, but each had the potential to do something  
good and great. Wilkins had only the potential to be evil and  
mean.  
  
"In the six hundred years or so of living our friends would have  
had, they could have done great things, made works of art,  
written books, helped the world around them. They could have had  
families, husbands and wives, children who could themselves done  
great things. All this was ruined by an essentially childish man.  
  
"But, our friends were willing to give the world up to save all of  
us. I only know of one person who stayed away from graduation. No  
one else hid, no one else ran away. We called, and they  
helped. I don't think I've seen anything braver in my entire  
life, and I think I know why. In the end, we just had to say,  
'Enough.'  
  
"We've all had some inkling that something was wrong with  
Sunnydale. At first, it was a vague impression, something  
glimpsed in the corner of the eye, something uncanny. And then,  
my eyes were opened. Some of you know the feeling, and some of  
them did too. We at Sunnydale High School learned how cruel this  
town could be, that nightmares could be real, and that monsters  
do more than hide under the bed.  
  
"But, there comes a time when you have to fight. There comes a  
time when you have to strike back at the opressor, no matter how  
futile or foolish it seems. No matter if it will get you  
killed. Whether it's Billy Budd striking back at Claggett, a lone  
man on a Beijing street standing up to a column of tanks, or a  
scared teenager saying 'No more!' to a demon, you have to stand  
up to evil. Otherwise, you might as well not be human.  
  
"No one wants to die. I didn't want to be eaten, or to be stabbed,  
or to have my blood drained to provide sustenance to a demon. But  
I would like to think that if I had died in a successful cause, I  
would have died happy. And if I had died in an unsuccessful  
cause, I still would have preferred that to having run away. We  
here have many things to regret, we can regret our friends'  
deaths, but we cannot and must not regret that they or we were  
willing to die that day."  
  
Willow took a deep breath, and she looked for faces she knew in  
the crowd. The Admores were crying. Jonathon had his arm wrapped  
around Tom's shoulders, giving him comfort. She couldn't see and  
didn't care about her parents, but she saw Xander look at her  
with awe, Oz look with adoration, and Buffy and Giles with  
understanding. Now they knew why she was willing to fight.  
  
"Jonathon was right, though. We in Sunnydale must be the most  
forgetful people on the Earth. You all know people who died or  
disappeared under weird circumstances; I'd like people to stand  
and read the names of those they know about. And if you aren't  
sure, it's probably one of those weird circumstances. Sunnydale's  
that sort of town."  
  
Buffy stood up and called out, "Kendra". Xander stood and said,  
"Jesse". Cordelia announced, "Kevin". Joyce added, "Pat", and  
Giles added "Jenny Calendar".  
  
People behind them started to add names. They heard names some of  
them remembered: "Principal Flutie", "Dave and Fritz",  
"Dr. Backer", "Morgan Shay", "Lester Worth", "Mr. Platt",  
"Theresa", "Mrs. Kalish", "Dr. Gregory", and others. Then, some  
people added names they didn't recognize, people killed years  
before: "Alice DeVane", "Tommy Cho", "Justine Apple", "Lou Ann  
Smith", "Deborah Diamond", "Maxie Gardiner", "John and Marsha  
Little", "Brian Hart".  
  
The audience was silent for a moment, and then Father Abernathy  
added "Father James O'Grady". People called out additional names  
for the next ten minutes, and finally an elderly man said, "My  
wife, Donna Bartle Byner". Everyone remained standing for a  
minute, and then Willow spoke again.  
  
"All these people, and many more, were killed by this town, by  
vampires, by demons, by monsters from nightmares. I don't blame  
anyone for blocking it all out, but we owe it to all of them to  
remember. Please rise for the Mourners' Kaddish on page  
3. 'Yisgadal, V'Yisgadash, Sh'mei Raba....'"  
  
Willow returned to her seat, and Father Abernathy returned to the  
podium.  
  
"We are here tonight to commemorate an act of sacrifice and to  
learn what lessons we can from it. In this church, we pray to He  
who willingly sacrificed Himself to save this world; now we  
remember twelve who sacrificed themselves to save this town. Our  
friends wanted to live, and it is proper to love life. It must  
not be one's only goal. That they fought hard to live does not  
lessen their sacrifice one bit, for God weighs our hearts, our  
souls, our thoughts. Our Lord sees their genuine willingness to  
give everything for their fellow man. Sees, for God and the  
immortal soul are eternal. And I am sure that God does not find  
them wanting.  
  
"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, in memory  
of He who sacrificed all to gain all, we commend the souls of  
these men and women to our God. For they knew the Good and turned  
away from Evil, for they acted justly, for they loved their  
fellow man more than life itself, and because You weigh the souls  
of all mankind, we pray that you gather them into the palm of  
Your hand, that You succor them, that your regard them with Your  
Holy countenance, and that You pring peace and healing to those  
they left behind. For though the body is transitory, the soul is  
eternal, and we pray You find them deserving of eternal life with  
You.  
  
"And when we face our moment of doubt, we pray that You inspire us  
with grace, that You remind us of what our friends have done, and  
that we profit by their example. And let us say, Amen."  
  
Father Abernathy returned to his seat, and the SHS Band returned  
to the front of the church. The band master raised his baton, and  
they began to perform Aaron Copland's Fanfare for the Common Man.  
  
After the fanfare, the band returned to their seats, and Giles  
took the podium.  
  
"All these were honoured in their generations and were the  
glory of their times.  
There be of them, that have left a name behind them,  
that their praises might be reported.  
And some there be, which have no memorial; who are  
perished, as though they had never been; and are become  
as though they had never been born; and their children  
after them.  
But these were merciful men, whose righteousness hath  
not been forgotten.  
With their seed shall continually remain a good  
inheritance, and their children are within the  
covenant.  
Their seed standeth fast, and their children for their  
sakes.  
Their seed shall remain for ever, and their glory shall  
not be blotted out.  
Their bodies are buried in peace; but their name liveth  
for evermore."  
  
Ecclesiasticus 44: 8--14  
  
Giles returned to his seat, and Oz and Devon took their places  
again. They started to play a soft instrumental version of an old  
song; Xander and many in the audience swayed as they heard the  
words in their heads: "Was eight years old, and running with a  
dime in my hand." The audience was silent until the final  
chorus, and then everyone began to sing gently, like a  
dream. "This is my hometown. My hometown, my hometown, my  
hometown, my hometown." As Oz's guitar and Devon's harmonica  
trailed off, the audience changed things slightly: "Our hometown,  
our hometown, our hometown." Finally, the audience stilled, and  
Oz and Devon returned to their seats.  
  
Joyce handed Buffy some sheets of paper, and Buffy walked slowly  
to the podium. She faced the audience, smoothed the papers, and  
then she turned to the side, facing some of the photographs.  
  
"I'm sorry. I couldn't protect you. I would have given most  
anything--I would have died myself--if it could have made this  
day unnecessary, but I saw no way to do it. Mayor Wilkins was  
just too powerful, and the demon he was to become was just too  
big.  
  
"But, I want to thank you. [She faced forward again.] And you. I  
called for your help, and you believed me. You trusted me. You  
didn't bat an eye, and what's with that expression anyway?  
[Willow glared at her.] When I told you that the Mayor was going  
to turn into a fifty-foot long snake-thing, they and you didn't  
laugh, didn't scoff, didn't ignore me. People shook their heads  
and said, "It figures," but all of you helped, all of you fought.  
  
"I'm sorry. I knew some of you were going to die. I knew very well  
that some of the people I called to fight wouldn't make it. It's  
a terrible thing to know. But because we were all willing to die,  
most of us survived. Our families, our town, and our world  
exists today because we stood up to evil. The price was terrible,  
but we paid it because we had to.  
  
"I can't tell you what this all means; I don't know what it means  
to me yet. We'll all have to figure this out ourselves. What can  
I really tell you?  
  
"I can tell you something, though. I think Graduation finally  
brought us all together. We had the jocks working with the Goths,  
the fashionistas working with the nerds, the musicians working  
with the card-players, and the skateboarders working with the  
regular crowd. After this, none of us will ever be able to pass  
each other by on the street again. At long last, and sadly,  
Sunnydale is finally, in spite of itself, a community.  
  
"There's no ending to this. I can't wrap it all up with a moral. I  
can't say: 'And they lived happily ever after.' I can't lie to  
you and say that everything will be all right, because none of  
you would believe me. All I can say is that our friends did  
Good, and our friends did well. In the nights to come, when you  
dream of the friends we lost, remember that. Know it. The town of  
Sunnydale is cursed, cursed to be a home for monsters and  
demons. But in the lives of our friends, and of yours, it is  
forever blessed."  
  
Buffy returned to her seat, and Father Abernathy came forward  
again. He gestured to someone the audience didn't see, and then  
the church bell rang thirteen times, for the ten students, for  
the two teachers, and for Principal Snyder.  
  
"We've prayed for the souls of those we lost, and we've remembered  
them. It remains to us here to go on and live inspired by their  
example. Mourn them, but do not despair, for we hope to see them  
again."  
  
May the Lord bless you and keep you.  
  
May the Lord cause His face to shine upon you and be gracious  
unto you.  
  
May the Lord turn His countenance upon you, and grant you peace.  
  
The service ended with a candlelight procession to the ruins of  
Sunnydale High School. The Sunnydale police, of course, did not  
interfere. They arrived at the school, and they left the  
photographs and tokens of their friends at a makeshift shrine,  
along with bouquets of flowers. Then the band's bugler played  
"Taps", and the mourners returned to their homes. 


	14. Epilogue: The Local Heroes

Epilogue. Wednesday to Saturday.  
  
Buffy started her self-defense class the next day; it was  
well-attended, even though some of the tactics she taught were  
somewhat outre. The next day, Buffy and Giles used the YMCA for  
their training. Their fencing sessions became a great attraction,  
although the YMCA's fencing instructor had to warn her students  
not to use any of their techniques.  
  
Willow and Oz lived out what Willow called their "Golden  
Summer". She reached an accommodation with her parents; they  
didn't ask, and Willow didn't tell. Willow assisted Oz and Oz's  
uncle in building a cage in the basement of Oz's home, and they  
prepared for his monthly curse.  
  
Cordelia and Xander spent all their remaining time together. They  
packed up her things. They wandered through the malls of  
Sunnydale. They went to a nearby beach and tried to relax, though  
they never quite succeeded. They stayed in Xander's bedroom;  
fortunately for their sanity, Xander's father chose to disappear  
for a few days. Xander initiated Cordelia into the mysteries of  
country and western music; he stuck with music that would never  
be played on the local radio station. They tried losing  
themselves in sex, but it didn't work. As Terry Allen sang on one  
of Xander's CDs, "I blame God. He's the only one who could make a  
mess like this that even He can't clean up."  
  
Giles split his days between cataloging the books they had  
salvaged, training Buffy at the YMCA, and recovering from the  
bruising she gave him. He took the time to write a letter.  
  
Dearest Olivia,  
  
I must beg your pardon for not having replied to your letter of  
early April; unfortunately, I have been extremely preoccupied,  
and for reasons you would never believe.  
  
I now find myself a gentleman of leisure; I have been fired by my  
English employer, and my job here ended as the school did. I am  
certain that The Times chose not to print any stories about a  
school in an obscure California town that had been levelled in an  
explosion. Nevertheless, that was my school. My friends and I  
are fine, but we shall never forget our horrour.  
  
You expressed amusement at my stories of the mating habits of  
Homo sapiens califoriensis. I shall never understand them, but  
they are, in fact, worthy successors to the American soldiers who  
came to England fifty-five years ago. I have seen acts of grace  
and sacrifice you or I would hardly credit. I don't understand  
their enthusiasms, their music, or their attitudes. However, I  
shall not denigrate them again.  
  
I should be happy to receive you here in September.  
  
With love,  
Rupert Giles  
  
Saturday morning came; Xander and Cordelia had spent one last  
night in Cordelia's room. They made gentle love one last time,  
and then Xander pampered her. He shampooed her hair, helped with  
her makeup, and helped with her clothes; he armored her for  
battle. They went outside and waited in silence; at noon, one of  
Cordy's old friends drove up to take her to Los Angeles. They  
kissed, and Cordy got into the car. Tears streamed down his face  
as they drove away.  
  
"Who was that?"  
  
"Xander."  
  
"Your boyfriend?"  
  
"Just Xander. It's complicated."  
  
Brianna glanced at Cordelia and saw one tear roll down her cheek;  
she nodded, and they dove off in silence.  
  
Xander returned to his house, retreated to his room, and listened  
to Alison Krauss singing of finding and losing love. He took the  
time to finish packing for his trip, and he spent the rest of the  
afternoon lost in reverie.  
  
At eight o'clock, of course, Xander showed up at the Bronze. He  
got a soda and stood watching the dancers. It was as if nothing  
had happened; he looked at them and saw no sign that they had  
fought a war just two weeks ago. A few minutes later, Buffy was  
at his side.  
  
"That's what I fight for, you know."  
  
"I know. It's just that--"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The next song was the Sundays' "Here's Where the Story  
Ends". They cringed at lhe lyric, "It's that little souvenir of a  
terrible year which makes me wonder why," and they retreated to a  
table.  
  
"Willow's on Oz-watch."  
  
"I know. I tested out the cage yesterday."  
  
"And it got the Slayer Seal of Approval?"  
  
"Yeah. Oz does good work. I could barely flex the bars. Without  
hands, he won't be able to do even that. Uh, where's Cordy?"  
  
"Gone."  
  
"Gone?"  
  
"Gone. She won't be back."  
  
Buffy nearly blurted out the words, "What did you do?" She would  
have, but then she was reminded of Angel's departure, and she  
said nothing.  
  
"Love sucks, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, Xand. What happened?"  
  
"Don't you know, Buff? I only want what I can't keep."  
  
"Not just you."  
  
She moved around the table and sat next to him; they stayed like  
that for a while, sipping their drinks and mourning lost  
loves. Fuel's "Shimmer" came over the sound system, and Xander  
said, "You know, we listen to some really depressing music."  
  
"Yeah. It fits my mood."  
  
"Still thinking about Angel?"  
  
"I still dream of him, and have nightmares of him. He's still in  
my head. I even went patrolling yesterday to see if I could fight  
those memories away."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Nothing. The graveyard was as quiet as a graveyard should be."  
  
"You're doing a good job."  
  
"I know. But, it makes me twitchy."  
  
"Need a refill?"  
  
"Yeah. Thanks."  
  
Xander went to the bar and ordered; he also wrote a note for the  
disc jockey. He returned with his coffee and her mocha blast, and  
then he said, "You'll find someone, Buff. Someone who isn't in  
pain when he's not inflicting it. Someone who understands you and  
brings sunshine when it's dark."  
  
"Xander? This had better not be a come-on."  
  
"No. I'm not that disloyal. This isn't a rebound  
attempt. Whatever happens, though, I love you. Willow loves  
you. Giles loves you. And, Angel loves you. There's not enough  
love in the world for us to waste any."  
  
Then, David Bowie's "Heroes" came over the sound system. They  
looked at each other, two heroes out of many, and they swayed to  
the music.  
  
'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact.  
Yes, we're lovers, and that is that.  
And though nothing will keep us together,  
We could beat them, for ever and ever.  
We can be heroes, just for one day.  
What do you say?  
  
It was time for them to leave, and Xander drove her back to her  
house. She kissed his cheek and got out of the car. He made no  
attempt to leave.  
  
"You want to come in?"  
  
"Yeah. Home's not good tonight."  
  
"When has it ever been?"  
  
They went inside, and Buffy made them lemonade while Xander nuked  
some popcorn. They lay down on the carpet in front of the  
television and tried to watch a movie, but the day had been long,  
and they soon fell peacefully asleep, she nestled on his chest.  
  
Joyce woke up an hour later, disturbed by a loud commercial, and  
she went downstairs to shut the television off. She saw the two  
friends sleeping on the carpet, and thought, "That's  
interesting." She draped a blanket around them, and she went back  
to her bedroom. For the first time in months, she was at peace. 


End file.
